Aftermath: An Interlude
by hbrackett
Summary: Picks up where finale left off.  Damn those cliff-hanger endings!  This was going to be a one-shot but is now turning into a virtual Season 2
1. Chapter 1

A/N – What a cliffhanger the show ended on! Oh well, I will have to make up what I think happens next. I was thinking a one shot, but could continue if people want to read more, really not sure. Also, if people want to throw in any ideas, I'd be happy to add them in. And I don't know which way this will ship yet. Ideas? Let me know in a review or PM.

**Aftermath: Prelude to Season 2**

"So now, it's my turn to get what I want!" shouted Jackson. Up in the darkness at the top of the stairs, Derek was invisible except for tiny flashes of light (red) reflecting off his eyes, and of course the brighter flash of teeth,

Jackson, already planning his run out the door should Derek attack, let his breath out in a silent scream. Beta-Derek was fast, but Alpha-Derek jumped to the bottom of the stairs so quickly he might have teleported. And then, scariest of all, he smiled.

Derek Hale never smiled. There weren't even _rumors_ that he smiled.

Yet any similarity to the expression he had on his face to a human smile ended when the mouth opened to reveal the teeth of the Alpha.

Stiles voice seemed to echo in his head: _'Ok, what are we trying to prove here? Does ANYONE really need that many teeth? And how many TOOTHBRUSHES do you go through in a week?'_

Just before he bit, he stopped, shifted back to human, and looked condescendingly at Jackson.

"Are you really sure you want to ruin that shirt and that jacket?" he asked.

Jackson was still frozen, his brain moving too slowly to process the words. When it finally seemed obvious that Derek was not even going to kill him, much less bite him, he began to calm down. A bit.

"You serious?" he asked.

"You will be going through a lot of clothes, Jackson. And you like them expensive. Its all one to me."

He stepped forward suddenly, and Jackson threw himself backward against the door.

"Ok! OK! Give me a second!" Jackson edged around Derek, who watched with that same feral grin. _'Oh boy, when I am one of you and don't have to be afraid of you anymore, Big Bad Alpha Wolf, we are SO going to redefine our relationship!'_ thought Jackson. He stepped over to the stair railing and carefully dusted it off before hanging his jacket from it. The shirt came next, folded neatly and laid on top. He shivered, clutching his arms around his bare chest, suddenly feeling terribly exposed before the older teen.

"Aren't those designer jeans? And the shoes are $500 at least."

Jackson glared, then removed the shoes and the jeans and placed them in the growing pile. He noticed Derek about to speak again, then removed his socks too. A pair of Calvin Klein boxer briefs was all that defended his dignity.

"Go ahead Jackson, nothing I haven't seen before." Said Derek, sarcastically.

Jackson glared for a full minute, then hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the briefs.

"Oh my God, you were actually going to do it, too." Said Derek, shaking his head in disgust.

Jackson flushed red hot, all over his body, forgetting the cold as his skin seemed to flame.

"STOP PLAYING GAMES WITH ME! ARE YOU GOING TO BITE ME OR NOT?" Jackson shouted. He hyperventilated, and his eyes shimmered with unshed tears. His chest was on fire, and there seemed to be hooks in his throat.

Derek scowled ferociously, and Jackson backed up again, this time falling backwards onto the steps. The fall destroyed the last of his composure, and he began to cry, heaving out great sobs, his breath hitching painfully.

Derek looked down on him without the slightest hint of pity.

"You aren't asking for the right reasons, Jackson. I thought we covered this the last time. You are all about yourself. You don't care about anyone. No one cares about you, or at least the things _you_ feel they should care about. Being a werewolf means being part of a Pack, and a Pack member works for the good of the group…not the individual. Even the Alpha has to be concerned about the group. That's why only the Alpha can make a werewolf; he has to determine who would be a good choice…and who would be a poor one. You just would not make a good choice, not until you can learn how to stop focusing on WHAT _YOU_ _**WANT!"**_

Jackson flinched backwards, terrified.

"Is that why you 'helped me', Jackson? To get what you want?_ Or because it was the right thing to do, to help save your friends? Answer me. I'll know if you lie!"_

Jackson kept silent, not daring to risk an answer.

"That's just what I thought. Get dressed, and get the hell out of here. Something I imagine the girls you've dated have heard often enough from you."

"Help me. Please." Jackson said in a very small voice.

Derek whirled around, his anger flaming high once again.

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU NEED HELP WITH?" he roared.

For once, Jackson did not flinch, just let Derek's anger wash over him like a gentle ocean wave.

"Caring about my friends, my family. Other people." He said this so softly, even Derek had to strain to catch it.

"Is that what you _really_ want?" Derek listened very carefully to the heartbeat of the boy kneeling in front of him. One way or the other, this would be the last time they had this particular conversation.

Jackson looked up at him, his face more naked than his body, displaying a raw emotion Derek had not believed was possible. A hunger lay in his eyes for something even more powerful than his need for the bite. Redemption.

"Yes." The absolute truth, to Derek's ears.

Derek extended a hand, and pulled Jackson to his feet.

"Now that was the right way to ask. Pack brother."

Jackson barely had time to register the last two words before he was suddenly screaming in rawest agony: Derek's eyes had flared crimson, the jaws gaped revealing the hellhound teeth, and in an instant they were buried in the boy's shoulder. The jaws released, and his body thudded heavily to the floor, blood pooling all around him.

Later…

Derek taped the bandage securely to the wound. Stripping down had been the right idea; Jackson would not have anything to explain when he got home, as long as nobody touched his shoulder.

When the boy was dressed, he looked up at Derek with silent thanks in his eyes, still red and raw from having cried for the first time in…he could not even remember.

"Come see me tomorrow, after you've healed. Then we'll begin your education. And Jackson, DON'T be another Scott. No Lydia, no distractions. When I tell you to do something, you listen. The first time I have to argue with you, you are on your own. And believe me, if you think these powers are all you need to keep safe, you're wrong. Your life will be a hundred times more dangerous with all of the hunters out there. You…will not…survive. Understand?"

Jackson nodded. Derek gave him an impatient glare, and Jackson gulped.

"Um, yes Sir."

Derek nodded. "That's better."

"Derek? Would you have bitten Scott if he asked for it?" he asked quietly. In other words, is he better than me? Derek heard the silent question, and carefully considered his answer.

"He never wanted it, and still doesn't. But…Scott thinks only about others. Well, ONE other person. And _not_ his Pack. But it's a start. He has a long way to go."

Derek snickered softly to himself. "You know, Stiles is insane, but he would have made a better werewolf, with the lengths he goes to for everyone around him. Even Peter recognized it, and that's why he offered him the bite. Even tried to appeal to Stiles' own insecurity. But he didn't take it, even though he wanted it. I have to say…I admire him."

Jackson looked down at his feet.

"I WILL prove myself. I've been trying to do that my whole life. Thanks…and I don't mean the bite…I mean opening my eyes."

"I know you will, Jackson. Go on, get home. And one more thing…nobody knows yet. Might be a good idea to keep it that way. Which means…no showing off."

Jackson's face read defiance for a split second; Derek almost missed it. (_What? I can't have any fun?_) The thought likely came and went so fast Derek doubted Jackson even registered it. Then he just nodded, and left. Derek listened to the sound of the Porsche's engine, followed by the crackle of the tires on the dirt road.

After the boy was gone, Derek sat alone in his destroyed house, pondering his decision with Jackson. More hunters were coming, of that he was sure. There was no way the Argent clan would take Kate's death lying down. They would never believe that she was responsible for the fire. The boy was a target now, just as Scott was. Derek had no right to do it…but lately, Derek felt very alone, and to a degree was no better than Jackson at closing himself off from the world. But now, all of that was going to change. The Pack had begun to form. There was Jackson, and Scott (who would have to learn to focus on the non-Allisons of the world). They were the first, but they would not be the last. He already knew who he wanted for his next members. And together, they would stand strong against the Argents, the other Hunters, and anyone else who threatened the safety of his new family. He had lost a family once. He swore that his teeth would crack the bones of any Hunter who tried that again. He was not going to feel alone anymore.


	2. Chapter 2

Jackson arrived at his home, pulling his silver Porsche in behind his dad's Mercedes. His adoptive parents were sitting in the family room watching a movie. They turned to greet him, looking at him as if he were fragile glass and might break if they weren't extremely careful. Granted, the events of the past few days were far outside of their experience, and they were displeased that Jackson had any involvement with them, but overall nothing could make them see anything wrong with their golden boy.

Jackson gave them each a careful one armed hug, trying to make it seem as if he were just in a rush to get up to bed. His mother (ever sharp-eyed) noticed the awkward movement and opened her mouth to ask…but then decided against it.

Up in his room, Jackson stripped down once more (flushing as he remembered the trick Derek played on him) and examined the wound. It still hurt like hell, but Jackson had the urge to rip the bandage off anyway with the eagerness of a child on Christmas morning. He left it in place and thought about the new outlook on life Derek was going to help him achieve. By no means was the 'old' Jackson gone. It sat in the back of his head now, like a petulant spoiled child, still smarting at his own embarrassment this evening and plotting revenge. The new, wiser Jackson told it: "Just shut up." He wanted it to be gone, had hoped it was bitten out of him along with his humanity, but no such luck. He would have to kill it slowly, over a period of years, and even then he doubted it would ever lie completely quiet.

He stared at the ceiling from the satin sheets that covered his waterbed. There was the chance that the bite wouldn't take, or that it might kill him. This could be his last night alive. At the very least he should go down and say something to his parents, tell them how much he loved them. And suddenly realizing for the first time how much he did love them, he felt a sudden peace enter him, and BadJackson was silent. His eyes closed, and he drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, he woke up, looked at the clock on his nightstand, groaned, and closed his eyes again. He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and hopped out of bed. He stretched his arms out and gave in to a jaw stretching yawn, then rotated his arms, windmill fashion. The crinkling of the bandage made him remember the night before, and the realization hit him like a splash of cold water in the face.

His shoulder didn't hurt.

He fled to the bathroom, and in one brutal yank, pulled the adhesive bandage off his skin. It was whole and unmarked. He, Jackson Whitmore, had become a werewolf.

He showered quickly, resisting the urge to look at his reflection every five seconds to see if there were any changes. He felt great, his nervous system hummed like the finely tuned engine of his Porsche, but he had always felt that way. He wanted more than anything to try to force a change, but was unreasonably terrified that nothing would happen.

'But the bite…it's gone.' He thought to himself.

Was last night a dream? Were the past couple of months a dream? The blood-stained bandage said otherwise.

As much as he wanted to try, he just could not bring himself to do it. The old fear of failure sat around in his head like an annoying uncle at a holiday party too stupid to realize that he had worn out his welcome long ago.

Relax, relax, relax. It will happen when it happens.

He dressed, and went down to breakfast with his folks.

Jackson surprised his parents and himself by eating triple his usual intake of food. His mother was eying him, no doubt wondering about last night's painful looking hugs.

He rubbed his shoulder repeatedly before stretching it out a few times until she spoke.

"Is your shoulder okay, honey? It looked hurt last night."

"Pulled a trapezius muscle. It's mostly gone. I better take it easy at practice today."

She nodded, relieved.

He hugged them properly this time, then left for school.

He got out of his car, noticing he had parked next to the very same bike stand that Scott usually parked his ride in. Jackson had been an ass to him, but Scott just bugged the shit out of him. Still did.

On his way into the school, he heard a familiar voice sounding distressed.

"Give me back my books, creep! Who the hell are you anyway?"

"I'm the new kid, twerp. Now, I will ask you one more time. Where is Scott McCall?"

"I don't even know Scott McCall! He's a loser! Sucks at Lacrosse! Keeps to himself, has no friends!"

Jackson stood for a second, torn.

Derek's voice echoed quietly: "Nobody knows yet. Might be a good idea not to show off."

BadJackson piped in: "Let Stilinski take care of himself. He's used to beatings by now. He's not your friend anyway."

Derek again: "You don't care about anyone."

Dammit, what the hell should he do?

Cursing, Jackson threw his books in his car, and stalked around the building towards the sound of Stiles complaints.

There was a totally ripped and roided looking dude holding Stiles up against the wall. Stiles looked pale and terrified, and yet had still not given away Scott's whereabouts. Jackson's estimation of him went up a notch. He was an ass, but he did have guts.

The hulk suddenly noticed Jackson standing there.

"What do you want, Abercrombie? This isn't your business, so get gone."

Jackson's heart rate picked up as hot anger flooded his mind. With the exception of the werewolves, Jackson had never taken crap from any of the regular kids from school. HE was the one that usually handed out beatings.

"Look. You're new, so I'll give you a pass this time. I'm Jackson Whitmore, and I run this goddamn school. If anyone kicks the shit out of Stilinski, it will be me. So put him down, and go back to doing what you do best; making your parents wish they had invested in birth control."

The boy looked at him, smiling pretty nastily. Then he dropped Stiles in a heap, and walked over to Jackson.

"Say goodnight, Abercrombie." He pulled back a ham-sized fist.

Something huge suddenly leaped up the ladder of Jackson's subconscious, its claws scraping on the rungs. Holy shit, here it was. All the muscles in his body throbbed. His vision flared so that the smallest detail of everything around him was now painfully obvious. His hearing picked up the heartbeats of everyone present. Time seemed to slow down, and Jackson tasted sudden warm blood as his teeth erupted from his gums. Thank goodness he was wearing sunglasses, or the tell-tale glow in his eyes would have given him away.

Jackson caught the other boy's fist easily and stopped its force with an equal application of his own, not nearly exerting himself fully. He squeezed, and suddenly the boy was screaming as the bones in his hands snapped, breaking through the skin. Jackson yanked, and the boy was suddenly against the wall, the wounded hand pulled back and upwards.

"The next sound you hear will be your arm breaking." growled Jackson.

"Jackson! It's enough! Leave him alone!" This from Stiles, who looked confusingly enough still scared out of his wits.

Jackson looked at Stiles, and there was something in the smaller boy's face that made him listen.

The bully turned around and backed away quickly, giving Jackson and Stiles an evil look.

"Jackson Whitmore. I'll remember that name…and this." He held up his hand.

He ran off, and Jackson began to calm down. He waited until his vision had returned to normal, then took off the sunglasses and turned to Stiles.

"What the hell was that all about?"

Stiles shook his head. "Today, of all days, you come to my rescue. That jerk is Allison's cousin, Mark. Three guesses why he was looking for Scott."

Jackson ground his teeth. Another freaking Argent. He cursed the day that family had come here.

Stiles was watching him very closely.

"Jackson, there anything you want to tell me?" Stiles' eyes said he already knew, but Jackson was not ready to admit it just yet.

"Nah…not right now. That guy bothers you again, let me know. Where is Scott anyway? You two are always together holding hands and…" Whoops, BadJackson had slipped that in. Stiles got a hostile look on his face.

"As if I'd touch Allison Argent's sloppy seconds." He held his nose up in the air and stomped off. Jackson looked after him, then ran up and grabbed him.

"Stiles. I'm…sorry. I'm a jerk. I'm trying to work on it."

"You don't have to work on it, Jackson. You're perfect at it already."

"NO! I mean I am trying to be a better person." He shrugged. "Look, old habits die hard. I really am sorry…not just for this, but for everything. I don't expect you to accept my apology, I don't deserve it. I have no excuse, and was completely out of line with you all these years. You've helped me a lot recently, and I never thanked you for that either."

Stiles was speechless.

"Well, say something. Please."

"You know, Scott never really said 'thank you' to me, and he's my best friend. I accept your apology. And thank you for getting rid of that creep. I could have taken him myself, but I think he had kryptonite in his pocket, which of course drains away all my superpower…"

Jackson grinned, despite himself.

"Let's do lunch today. If Scott can let you out of his sight for two seconds." They looked around, noticing a distinct lack of Scott.

Stiles agreed, and Jackson went to his first class, just in time for the second bell.

Danny and the Lacrosse team were eyeing them incredulously during lunch, as the two shared jokes, told stories, and got to know each other better than they had in the last couple of years.

"So come over my house tomorrow and play the new Mortal Kombat with me. Even my dad plays, but he only likes Johnny Kage…" babbled Stiles.

"How about you come by me, I have all the systems, and my TV is like a whole wall." Jackson drank the rest of his bottled water, then noticed how quiet Stiles was.

"Jackson, you don't have to show off you know. I am aware your family is rich and all…"

Jackson was wide-eyed. Now he was insulting people without even realizing it.

"No, Stiles, I didn't mean it like that! Please believe me!" Jackson was desperate not to have this new camaraderie end so suddenly.

Stiles looked at him steadily. "Yeah, I guess you didn't. My bad. Maybe I'm still a little defensive too."

The relief was so visible on Jackson's face that Stiles had to laugh.

"It is going to take me some time to get used to the new you. And the _other_ new you." he said significantly.

Jackson looked down. "You know?"

"Sunglasses don't cover up claws, Jackson."

Shit.

"Did Mark notice them?"

"While you were crushing his hand with your talon covered paw? Yeah I think that might have registered."

"Oh, man, Stiles. Derek is so going to kill me."

"DEREK turned you? I thought it was Peter Hale!" Stiles hissed in a pretty loud whisper.

"I asked him to. Begged him to, more like it. He didn't want to. But he told me to keep it under wraps, and I blow my cover the first day."

"Sucks to be you, man. You want me to come with when you explain it to him? You _were_ saving my ass."

"You'd do that for me Stiles?"

"Of course! What are friends for?" he asked.

After lunch, Jackson found a private spot on one of the stairways and made a few phone calls until he tracked down his father, and asked him for a huge favor. His father was dubious, but then agreed and said he would take care of it.

He picked up Stiles after school, and the two of them drove over to Derek's place. He sat on the steps of the burnt out house, staring at nothing, finally looking up when they approached.

"Derek, don't be mad. I – uh" he began.

"You showed off." finished Derek. His voice was dead and lifeless. "Was it on the field? How many goals did you score?"

Jackson was speechless at this lack of faith, then realized that Derek had no reason to expect anything more from him.

Stiles spoke up, his voice angry.

"Actually, Mr. Badass, Jackson saved me from a hospital visit. This roided up hulk was going to punch my clock when Jackson took him down. Jackson is now officially…" he looked at Jackson. "my new best friend." Both Jackson and Derek were startled at this, and Derek, while he didn't smile, let some of the fire go out of his eyes.

"That's good Jackson. I'm glad to hear it."

Jackson was so relieved, he started to talk really fast, like Stiles did when he was upset.

"I mean, I heard them and I remembered what you said about being careful, but you also told me you have to help other people and I didn't know what to do-" Even Stiles looked impressed at this verbal runaway train.

Derek got up and flicked Jackson on the forehead with his finger.

"Don't think. Feel. Go with your gut."

Jackson nodded.

"There is one, uh, other little, erm…hiccup." Said Stiles quietly.

Derek tensed visibly.

"What."

"The guy that was beating up on me…the guy that Jackson took down…he was an Argent. And he was looking for Scott."

"So, Jackson. When you 'took him down', did you give yourself away?"

Jackson paled, and nodded quietly, again.

"Derek, I'm sorry-" he began

"Jackson, I said you did the right thing, and I meant it. You were a good friend to Stiles. It's just…there are consequences for our actions, even the good ones. A judge gives a murderer parole for good behavior, and he goes and kills again. There aren't rewards for what we do. Only punishments. This will come back and bite us…no pun intended."

Derek looked tired, and years older.

"Now, I have to leave my home. The County officials were just here and told me this place will be knocked down since it's a danger for the local kids."

Jackson laughed, and said "Nope, not gonna happen."

Derek looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"I called my dad. He is busy building this housing development on the other side of town. I explained the situation, and said that you had done so much for me, I wanted to pay you back. He is sending the crew over tomorrow, and they are going to rebuild your house. No charge. He can get the original plans, and you can throw in whatever modifications you want. They will handle the permits and everything. He says he even thinks he can write it off…um, I mean he would have done it anyway." Jackson blushed.

Derek was speechless.

"Jackson, you didn't have to do that, I still have money left over from my family-"

Jackson stepped up to him.

"The good of the pack, remember? My parents may not know it yet, but you're my family now too. Let me do this."

Derek's eyes held his for several minutes.

"Thank you. And I take back what I said. You were a good choice. I'm proud to have you with me.

Derek suddenly grabbed Jackson around the neck, and rubbed his knuckles fiercely into Jackson's head. Jackson screamed "Not the hair! NOT THE HAIR!" while Stiles collapsed laughing.

"Don't worry about the Argents. If they come after us, we will be ready." Derek said, after he released Jackson.

"What are you going to do about the Argents?" asked a new voice.

The three turned around and noticed Scott coming up the dirt road. He looked pissed, and his eyes were already a smoldering yellow.

Stiles shut up at once and got to his feet, looking and feeling guilty for some reason he could not express.

Derek and Jackson looked at him calmly.

"Allison has a cousin who gave Stiles a really hard time this morning. Jackson had to bail him out. He was looking for you. Where were you?" said Derek, an accusing tone in his voice.

"Allison and I decided to skip and spend the day together at the park. She did tell me he was staying with them now, but I have no idea why he would want me…oh." He looked suddenly sheepish, the yellow fading from his brown eyes.

"Allison disappears with the local werewolf, and you have no idea why he would want to look for you, huh?" said Derek scathingly.

Scott looked really uncomfortable. "Sorry guys, you know how it is. It's her family. Sorry Stiles, for not being there, and thanks Jackson for helping him out."

The three continued to stare at the young love-struck werewolf, who got the feeling more and more that the others wanted him to leave.

"Scott, I know you really care about Allison, but don't forget your friends need you too." Said Stiles.

"All right, all right. Stiles, come over my house tomorrow for dinner, we'll hang out."

Now Stiles looked uncomfortable.

"Um, I'm hanging with Jackson tomorrow. Some other time?" he said with a cheesy grin.

The yellow flared back in Scott's eyes. "I'm not there one time, and now Jackson's you're best friend? Who is he all of a sudden?"

"He's one of the Pack now, Scott." Said Derek quietly.

Scott's eyes widened in shock, the effect looking oddly comical as they were still smoldering.

"Fine. I guess you guys don't need me anymore. To hell with all of you."

He stalked off through the woods, completely phased into Beta state.

When he was out of earshot, Jackson turned to Derek. "Scott's a shitty werewolf, Derek." Jackson thought Stiles would come to Scott's defense, but the other boy remained quiet, lost in his thoughts.

"No, Scott is…your next challenge. Bring him back into the Pack. He won't survive alone. He's strong in many ways, but weak in others and seriously screwed up when it comes to Allison. He needs us. You need to make him know fear, Jackson. It's the only thing that will wake him up."

Jackson's jaw was on the floor. "You can't be serious! I can't bring him into the Pack! He hates me!"

Derek shook his head. "You already accomplished more today than I would have given you credit for. I am done underestimating you. You can do this, Jackson. Remember, don't think. Feel."

Jackson turned and took off through the trees in pursuit of Scott.

Derek smirked. "I didn't mean right this second, but this works too."

Stiles moved to stand next to Derek, and they gazed into the ominously quiet forest.

"You do realize they are totally going to try to rip each other to pieces."

Derek nodded. "That too, is what it means to be part of a Pack. I'm the Alpha, and now it's time for the cubs to establish the order of dominance."

Stiles was quiet. "I hope I'll still get to play Mortal Kombat on Jackson's TV tomorrow."

Stiles expected this comment to earn him (and he was not disappointed) one of Derek's patented Glares.

"You don't want to try to stop them? They _are_ your friends."

"Stop them? Derek, the boys are _fighting_ over me!" said Stiles jumping up and down, clapping his hands.

Derek groaned and put his face in his hands.

Jackson ran through the forest, suddenly reveling in the new sensations he was feeling. He was shifting into the Beta state, his enhanced vision outlining every important detail of the landscape in a fiery outline. His ears tracked Scott's movements; he was drawing closer with every passing second. Some instinct made him keep himself downwind from Scott, the better to follow his trail and keep Jackson from being spotted. Jackson could smell every animal that had passed through this part of the forest in the past few days. Had he wanted, he could have tracked them as easily as Scott. Saliva squirted into his mouth at the thought, and the idea of hunting for his food made his blood quicken with a fiery thrill. He shook his head. Some other time.

The speed he was traveling at defied mere human boundaries. He leapt over fallen tree trunks and boulders without thought. When the ground was more suitable for it, he dropped to all fours and traveled even faster, his hands clawing at the earth to propel himself along. He heard himself snarling and growling as he reached his prey. The wolf in Jackson knew what was about to come, and was preparing for the inevitable battle.

Scott had indeed heard the pursuit, and stopped, turning to face him. He was fully shifted, and pushed beyond the bounds of mere rage.

Jackson was fully shifted now too, cautioning himself that while Scott might have his head up his ass about Allison and the Argents, he had been a werewolf longer than Jackson. This might give him a lethal edge.

The young werewolves faced off, crouched low and snarling, circling each other slowly. They each waited for an opening, while at the same time trying to protect vulnerable spots. Scott lunged forward suddenly, the lethal claws swinging in an arc that could very well end up with Jackson's intestines cooling on the forest floor.

Jackson leapt at the last second, turning his body in midair so that he landed on his feet facing Scott's backside. Before Scott could whirl around, Jackson struck, and Scott suddenly had five deep gashes across his back that bled thickly.

Scott roared in rage, and suddenly slammed one arm backward, Jackson taking the blow full in the chest, his body flying backward and slamming into a tree. A split second later, and Scott was on him, and the younger boys teeth were tearing into Jackson's arm. Jackson threw Scott off of him, was on the other boy almost before his body hit the ground. Jackson caught one of Scott's flailing wrists in his jaws, and he crunched down, hearing the bones snap while Scott howled in pain. Scott brought up his other hand and raked his claws savagely across Jackson, slicing him from his stomach almost to his neck. Blood spurted from the wounds as Jackson lost consciousness and the blackness took him. The last thing he saw was Scott leaning over him, mouth wide, readying for the killing bite.

He awoke sometime later in Derek's house, on a small sleeping bag. A very pale Stiles, watched over him, gently cleaning the wounds with a damp cloth. Jackson wanted to check the condition of his body, but even the slightest movements made him want to scream with pain.

Scott was huddled in the far corner of the room, and from the sounds Jackson was hearing, Scott was having a nervous breakdown. He was rocking himself, crying uncontrollably, and letting out the occasional scream. He looked only slightly better than Jackson felt, the jagged gouges and bite-marks scoring his bare chest and arms. Derek was attempting to bandage the worst of these, but Scott was interfering with this due to the repetitive rocking. When the bandages came off, Derek would sigh and begin again.

"You okay bro?" Stiles asked Jackson quietly. "We thought we lost you there. Scott stopped himself at the last second, and carried you back. It was touch and go there for a while." Stiles looked over at Scott sadly. "He feels really guilty."

"He…he beat me? Th-that totally…sucks…shitty…werewolf…" gasped out Jackson.

"So, is being a werewolf everything you hoped for?" asked Stiles sarcastically.

Jackson never got the chance to respond. Scott had heard him speak and leapt up, causing all the bandages to fall to the floor. Derek threw his hands up in defeat.

"Jackson? Oh, man, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you like this. I could have killed you! I would never have forgiven myself. I am such a shit, you guys shouldn't let me hang around you, I'm a horrible horrible person. Jackson, please, I gotta hear you say you forgive me, or I'll…I'll start biting myself!"

Jackson laughed, then coughed painfully, wishing this werewolf healing would hurry up already.

"No problem, man. You got that one. Watch your back, next time…you won't be so lucky."

Scott looked relieved, then meekly went back to Derek and submitted to a proper bandaging.

The boys did their usual trick of calling their parents and saying they were spending the night at each other's houses, needing the peace and privacy of Derek's home to let their bodies heal. Scott slept upstairs on a sleeping bag with Stiles watching over him, while Derek leaned against a wall, looking steadily at Jackson.

"Derek…I failed. Scott…he beat me. Damn near killed me. Guess you were right the first time. I'm no good."

Derek shook his head, a real and rare smile staying on his face for almost two whole seconds.

"You still don't understand, do you? I didn't ask you to beat Scott. I asked you to bring him back to the Pack."

Derek looked up towards the room the other two boys occupied.

"I think Scott is done taking his friends for granted. Today, you put real fear back into that boy. Not fear of you…fear of being alone. It sounds cruel, but in the long run, it will save his life. We…are not a species that can survive individually. We need each other, we grow stronger the more of us there are. Which brings me to your next assignment."

Jackson groaned inwardly, as once again Derek's teeth seemed to flash at him from the darkness.

The next morning, both Jackson and Scott's injuries had knit almost completely, but they were still red and sore. It would most likely be another day or so before they were fully recovered. Mindful of Derek's warning about going through clothes, Jackson had prepared several suitcases of clothes to keep in the trunk of his car. He loaned some of them to a grateful Scott, who looked oddly out of place in the designer clothes. Jackson drove them to school, where the boys took quick showers in the gym before class. Now all three boys sat together at lunch, and received truly evil looks from the Lacrosse team. Jackson sighed and went over to have a word with them. After a few minutes he came back, and the team ignored them for the rest of the lunch hour.

"What did you tell them?" Asked Stiles in an awed whisper.

"That your dad is physically abusing you. And Scott, you're questioning your sexuality. They think it's great I'm helping you through these troubling times."

At the horrified looks on their faces, Jackson laughed and said "Just kidding. I said I was trying to get you guys to try out again. They would really like to have you back on the team."

Scott rubbed his hands on his face. "I have to get my grades up first."

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, and I have to get good at Lacrosse first."

Jackson waited for a minute, then started in on what had been on his mind since he left Derek's house that morning.

"Derek…wants me to do some quiet recruiting."

Scott and Stiles looked at each other.

"Huh?" they said at the same time.

"Derek wants to make more of us. He says we need a real Pack for what's coming. The Argents are gathering people too…more members of their family, and other Hunter families. They want to wipe us out for good. It could be a full on war. Great time we picked to be part of the team, huh?" said Jackson. They could tell from his expression, however, that he wouldn't change it if he could.

"Well, I didn't pick it. I was recruited by Peter Hale." Scott said sullenly.

"Would you really give it up? Take Allison and the Argents out of the equation, forget the Alpha and all the murders. One day, you wake up, and poof you're a werewolf. How would you feel about it?" asked Jackson. This was the one aspect of Scott he couldn't understand.

It seemed for a minute that Scott had no ability to "take Allison out of the equation", but then he said: "No. I wouldn't give it up. If I were alone. What does Derek expect you to do? Go up to random people and say, 'Hey, my friend's a werewolf and he wants to know if he can bite you? Just come out into the middle of a dark forest to a burned house so he can do it? You aren't going to get many volunteers, Jackson."

"I'd volunteer." Said Stiles.

They looked at him.

Stiles shrugged his shoulders. "What? Why should you guys get all the fun. I can get good at Lacrosse, maybe it would cure my ADHD, and I'd FINALLY have a shot at Allison!" Stiles pretended to hold an invisible girl in his arms.

"Oh, Allison, I love you, please marry me even though I need regular flea baths, and sometimes have accidents on the floor. I will bring you the newspaper every morning, and your slippers, and I promise not to bite the mailman, just because he said Hello to you. And after you become…one of us!...you will develop extra breasts to feed litter after litter of our beautiful cubs!"

Jackson was laughing so hard he fell off his chair. Scott was initially pissed, but then began to smirk and finally to chuckle despite himself. Stiles was a riot when he wanted to be.

"If I didn't know you were kidding…" he growled.

"Of course I am, Scotty darling! I really want Jackson; I want those lickable abs, those bulging biceps, and my…is that a Lacrosse stick you have in your pants? Oh, come here you precious baby! We will live in your big fancy house in the lap of luxury, and you will feed me Bonbons and draw me bubble baths and take me dancing at leather clubs where I lead you along on a leash! Then we can call Derek over and ply him with liquor until he submits to our every forbidden desire!"

Now both Scott and Jackson were laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

"Ahem."

The boys looked up to see Mark Argent standing there with a cast on his hand and looking grim. This time, he had two similar sized boys with him. Scott and Jackson stood side by side and faced them, calmly meeting their gazes with equal force. Stiles tried enter the staring contest too, but lost when his ADHD kicked in and his gaze wandered randomly around the room.

"I heard you were looking for me. Here I am. What do you want?" asked Scott.

Mark Argent moved to lean over in his usual intimidating fashion, but then decided against it.

"You vanished with my cousin. I get nervous when my relatives hang out with…'your kind'."

"What the hell do you mean 'your kind'" asked a new voice.

It was Danny, and the rest of the Lacrosse team who had now stood up and were glaring threateningly at the hulking trio. The two new boys got nervous and started to tug at their leader's sleeve.

"You really want to know?" asked Mark nastily.

"I already know. I'm one too. And you know what? All our friends here know it too, and they don't care. In fact, the only ones who have a problem with it, is you. So do yourself a favor and get lost before we show you what we can really do with these sticks."

As one, each boy smacked their Lacrosse stick into their palms with a single _thlat!_ sound. The trio of Argents looked at all of the well-built athletic and weapon bearing boys in front of them, and then turned and left the room.

Danny came over. "Scott, let us know if those jerks give you any more problems. Be proud of what you are." The team left.

Scott whispered to Jackson: "Danny's a werewolf, and the team knows? When did that happen?"

"It didn't…I _really_ told them you were struggling with your sexuality. Sorry, I was still smarting over the ass-kicking I got yesterday." Jackson grinned sheepishly, and then it was Stiles turn to have a hysterical fit on the floor.


	3. Chapter 3

After school, all three boys went over to Jackson's and stayed for dinner, playing video games well into the night. Stiles decimated them at Mortal Kombat, all of the werewolf reflexes inferior to Stiles' ability to memorize endless attack combos which he punched out with brutal abandon. Jackson and Scott frantically button mashed, but still received one blood and gore-filled fatality after another while Stiles played looking only half-interested in the game.

"Jesus, Stiles, how did you get so good at this?" asked Jackson, shaking the stiffness out of his hand.

"I told you guys, my Dad IS Johnny Kage. In the movie, Johnny Kage beats Goro. And I'm his son! So naturally I am the master. You guys are lucky I'm not one of you, or I would have made you my bitches in real life too."

Scott and Jackson turned towards a suddenly terrified Stiles, their eyes yellowed, and the growling fang-filled mouths gaping wide as the two tackled him.

Scott straddled Stiles while Jackson easily pinned Stiles' arms over his head.

"Now, who's the Alpha?" asked Scott menacingly.

"You are, you are!" screamed Stiles.

"What? Did I hear you right? WHO is the Alpha?" said Jackson an inch away from biting Stiles' face completely off.

Stiles looked around for help, then shouted "Derek's the Alpha! My loyalty is only to Derek!"

"That's good to hear, Stiles." said Derek from the hall.

The boys leapt off Stiles, and looked guiltily at Derek.

"Jackson, I just came by to thank your father personally for what he is doing. The crew showed up today, and began work on the house. Of course, this means I am officially homeless for now…but your dad actually asked about that and kindly offered me the use of your guest cottage. So I guess I'll be within…hearing distance for quite a while!"

Scott and Stiles thought Jackson would be horrified, but he actually grinned and said "That's awesome, Derek, it will be great to have you around! Come by for dinner any night."

Scott and Stiles looked less surprised than Derek himself, who heard clearly the sincerity of Jackson's words in the boy's heartbeat.

'Could it be? Could my Pack be coming together? Could I have a family again?' These are thoughts he would not have revealed under threat of silver bullet. The scars of his past ran deep, but now he was going to really allow himself to hope.

Derek parked on the sofa, and bemusedly watched his cubs…the boys, rather… kill each other over and over on the video game until they got tired. They also filled Derek in on their run-in with the Argents. Derek looked grim, biting his lip until it bled.

"So, let me get this straight. As far as the Argent boys know…Danny told them he was a werewolf?"

All the color drained out of the boy's faces as they realized the import of Derek's words.

"We've got to warn him!" said Jackson, yanking out his phone. There was no answer on Danny's cell, or at his house. Getting more worried by the minute, Jackson dialed the number for Danny's mother, and she picked up on the third ring. Jackson clicked it over to speaker for Stiles' sake.

"Hello, Jackson?"

"Yeah, hi. I was looking for Danny, but he hasn't picked up his phone."

"Jackson, Danny is here with me at Beacon Hills General Hospital."

"What! Is he all right?" asked Jackson frantically.

"No, he was… attacked…stabbed while he was walking home from school. The doctor believes at least three different knives were used…"

She began to openly sob on the phone, sounding close to hysterics. "I knew this would happen to me one day. When he came out to me and told me all his friends supported him I hoped he would be safe, but there are so many bad people in the world. Jackson, they don't know if he will last the night! Oh, what am I going to do, I can't lose my son! He's all I have!" She continued to cry, and Jackson told her that he would be right down.

Jackson's and Scott's eyes were glowing yellow, and Derek…the overlarge teeth of the Alpha seemed to want to explode outward from his bleeding gums.

Stiles backed up, terrified of the infuriated werewolves.

"Um, guys, please calm down. I am pretty sure they don't allow werewolves into the hospital, it's against policy you know."

Slowly they shifted back to normal.

"What do we do, Derek?" asked Jackson.

"We have to go to him. And then…Danny's mother has a choice to make. After that, the Argent boys are going to wish they had never been born."

Derek drove as fast as he could, arriving at the hospital in about half the time it should have taken. They made their way to Danny's room, and found the other seven members of the Lacrosse team there in the hall. Only three people were allowed in the room at a time, and Danny's mother wasn't going anywhere.

Jackson badly wanted to tell the guys who did this, and then organize a hunt for the bastards, but held himself back because he knew that Derek would want to organize a hunt…his own kind of hunt.

The last of the team finished visiting with Danny, and filed out, clapping Jackson on the shoulder as they went by. Mrs. Kean came out to greet them.

"Hello boys, visiting hours are almost over, but three of you can go in if you want for a few minutes." She looked ready to swoon, her thin arms clutching herself as if afraid she would fall apart if she let go.

"Mrs. Kean, can we talk somewhere private?" asked Derek.

They found one of the waiting rooms, empty at this late hour.

"You're son was attacked because the boys who did it thought he was a…monster."

Mrs. Kean looked as she had been slapped.

"Being gay does not mean you are a monster! How dare you…" she began to get red in the face, the tears still pouring down.

"NO! I _don't_ mean they thought he was gay. They thought he was…a werewolf." said Derek quietly.

She looked at the four of them as if they were insane.

"Please leave now. I don't know what kind of craziness you are into…"

"Mrs. Kean!" broke in Scott. "Werewolves are real. But they aren't monsters! Some people think they are, and-"

"Why are you talking about this madness when my son is dying in the other room?" she blurted out.

"Because we may be able to save him." Derek responded.

That got her full attention.

"I think you had better tell me…exactly…what the hell you are talking about." She hissed.

"Werewolves are real…and they have supernatural healing abilities. We can heal overnight. We came here to offer you a choice. I can turn Danny…and IF he survives, he will become like us. But he will live. And he will be stronger than he ever was before."

"No one is stronger than my son. I am sorry, but I just cannot believe this is real. Please go." She turned away from them.

Jackson stood in front of her.

"Mrs. Kean, you have known me my whole life. I'm one of them, but my parents don't know…yet. Just look…but promise me you will show the same strength you gave to Danny by being his mother, and not freak out or be scared. I am no danger to you. Are you ready to see?"

She looked at him carefully, this boy who had been her son's best friend.

Then she nodded once.

Jackson let a single thought cross his mind…what he would like to do to those Argent guys if he had them in front of him…and shifted into the full Beta phase nearly instantaneously.

Mrs. Kean backed up, stifling a shriek. Jackson relaxed enough to turn back. When his features were normal, she approached and gently stroked one of his cheeks, as if unable to believe what his face had just done.

"Will this life…be difficult for him?" she asked.

Derek nodded grimly.

"But he will have friends like us to support him." Put in Scott.

"You are one too?"

Scott nodded.

"And you?"

"I am." said Derek.

"Um, I'm not!" piped up Stiles.

Mrs. Kean burst into near hysterical giggles, and then lapsed into tears once more.

Derek said gently: "Mrs. Kean, the longer we wait, the less-"

She suddenly snapped to full awareness.

"Then what are you waiting for? Go in there and save my son!" she hissed.

"Mrs. Kean. No one is to enter until we come out." He advised.

She nodded once and took a position beside the doorway. She looked like she could take on the entire Argent clan if they tried to storm in, so grim was her expression.

Derek went in, and then angrily gestured for Jackson and Scott to follow. They looked at each other and filed into the room. They shut and locked the door, disabled the CCTV, and closed the curtains over the window. Derek shut off all the alarms on the machines.

"Derek, why are we in here with you?" asked Scott.

"Tonight, you will see the first evidence of how we are stronger as a Pack. There is no way Danny would survive the bite in this condition. Even with you here, it may fail. Our power is enhanced the more of us there are. We heal faster around each other, and we shift further toward true wolves when we are near each other. If I turn him with you two present, it may just give him the edge he needs to pull through this. Stand close, and lay your hands on his skin. Then shift. Stay that way until I tell you to turn back."

Scott and Jackson did as instructed, while Derek took a band of gauze from a nearby shelf. Looking for a spot that would not likely to be examined until the next morning, Derek selected Danny's ankle. He pulled off the hospital slipper, let his teeth grow to their full length without actually shifting, and bit ever so carefully but deeply into the flesh. Quickly compressing the wound with the gauze, Derek wrapped it around and around the ankle until the blood stopped, then fit the slipper back onto Danny's foot. Only the edge of the new gauze was visible over the slipper.

As Derek hoped, Danny was so sedated that the bite made very little impression on the machines that monitored his vital functions. Then, holding Danny's wrist, he sat down to wait.

After about an hour, they heard raised voices outside the door. A nurse wanted to check on the patient. There had been a blip on one of their monitors. Mrs. Kean explained that people from her church were present and praying over her son. The nurse argued that her son's life was more important than any religious beliefs, but got nowhere with Mrs. Kean. The nurse left, threatening to call a doctor.

Ten minutes went by, and now there was a male voice raised in argument. Again, they got nowhere.

A sound caught their attention. It was the EKG machine that measured heart rate. They watched the number climb a single beat per minute. After thirty seconds, it jumped up two more. A rattling sound came from the doorknob. Scott reached over with one hand and held onto the knob that turned the lock. They heard the key inserted which wiggled around fruitlessly, unable to engage the locking mechanism.

Danny's heart rate jumped up a few more beats. It was now 65 beats per minute. Blood pressure increased to 110 over 68.

"It's taking, faster than it would have. Damn, I wish I had turned Stiles." He muttered, perhaps not realizing he spoke aloud. One machine after another began to display a green light, meaning that his life-signs were now within normal limits. As they looked, Danny seemed to grow less pale. Jackson and Scott, too afraid to speak lest they disturbed the process, let out sighs of relief.

Derek sniffed the air.

"Guys, shift back. Now."

This was sometimes a hard thing to do when emotions were running high, but at a direct command from their Alpha, both boys found themselves suddenly human once more. As one, they leaned over with their eyes closed in prayerful attitude. Scott yanked his hand back to his side just in time for the door to crash open.

They looked up, as if startled from meditation.

"What are you doing to my patient?" asked a red-faced doctor.

"We were merely praying…my son." Said Derek, with a straight face.

Mrs. Kean met them out in the parking lot.

"Will he be all right?" she asked.

"It was close, but I think he will make it. You have to get him out of there tomorrow. His injuries will be healed, except for whatever they have sticking in him. Take any medications they give you, but don't give any to him. He won't need them." advised Derek.

Mrs. Kean fully believed now, having heard the doctor's surprised exclamations that Danny was pulling through.

"I'll use my mother's keys to get to the records and destroy them." Scott offered.

"What about the computerized records?" asked Derek.

"Let my son take care of that. The computers do whatever he tells them to." said Mrs. Kean.

"Derek, I want to thank you for what you did, and for being honest with me about the risks. Please come over with the boys tomorrow to help me explain this to him. His father is gone, I am all he has left…but now he has you." she turned to walk away.

"Mrs. Kean!" called Derek. She turned back. "Yes?"

"A war is coming, between us and the people that did this to him. Danny will need to fight with us."

Mrs. Kean came back over to them, her face and tone more chilling than Derek's on his worst day. The hate filled voice she hissed at them with took them all by surprise.

"The war is already here, starting from the moment those boys put a blade into my son. Daniel is a warrior, Mr. Hale. I knew that from the moment he was born, and named him after one who survived being cast into a den of lions. With his strength added to your own, you will destroy those people…those _monsters_!"

She turned and walked off, leaving all of the boys, Derek included, staring after her in open mouthed wonder.

"I'd turn her, if she weren't so scary already!" said Derek admiringly.

The boys went to their homes, slept fitfully as each dreamed of wolves and lions fighting a great battle, and the then got up that Saturday morning to head over to Danny's when they each got a text stating that he was home.

Mrs. Kean answered the door, and as frail as she seemed last night (until right at the end anyway), she now seemed radiant with life once more. She shared this in common with Danny, who was bustling about the kitchen, helping his mother cook a huge breakfast for them.

"Ah, that first morning ravenousness!" said Jackson wistfully.

"Danny, tell us exactly what happened." asked Derek.

"After breakfast. Mother's orders." Danny said.

Derek paled at the thought of arguing with her, and left the questions until after they had dined.

After a wonderful meal of mountains of scrambled eggs, pancakes, sausage, bacon endless piles of toast, milk and orange juice, the boys helped to clear away the dishes, loudly thanking Mrs. Kean for her hospitality. She waved it off, and the group moved to the living room to have their palaver.

"Okay, so I was on my way home yesterday after practice. The team had just left me; makes me think those guys were waiting for me. They pulled up in a brand new Hummer, and the three of them got out and started shouting things at me. Crazy things. I think they were drunk. The kept telling me to…change. I think I said something like 'Screw you, I don't have to change.', and they got pissed off. The biggest one…that Mark character, came up to me and said: 'This is what happens to werewolves when they screw with my family.' I didn't see the knife until it was actually in me. I think I went into shock…I didn't even feel the other stabs. Why would they call me a werewolf? And how did I heal so quickly…" He shook his head, making a sudden connection. "No, that's not possible."

Derek spoke up.

"You weren't one when they attacked you. You are one now. Last night, I turned you. Scott and Jackson are like me too, and they helped me do it. That is how you healed."

Danny did not look as if he fully believed, but kept glancing at where his stab wounds had been.

"Would you like to see a demonstration?" asked Jackson.

Danny hesitated, and then nodded.

"Let's both do it." said Scott.

Ten minutes later, Danny had stopped hyperventilating enough to come to grips with the situation. Mrs. Kean, having seen it once, was no longer impressed.

"And I can do that too? Tell me everything I need to know about this."

He listened carefully as Derek explained the ins and outs of their abilities, connecting the information to the memory of Scott's previous performance on the Lacrosse field.

"We are going to have a kick-ass Lacrosse team this year between the three of us." said Danny, chuckling. "I guess I owe you guys thanks for saving me. But what would make them think I was a werewolf at the time? Oh, shit. I told him 'I know what Scott is, and I'm one too.' This is my own fault."

"No, it's mine. You would never have said that if I hadn't played a joke on Scott, telling you he was…struggling with things." confessed Jackson.

"Oh, so you're not…struggling?" said Danny, looking at Scott.

Scott squirmed. "Sorry."

"My loss. Don't worry Jackson, I don't blame you."

"Of course not! The blame is on those boys. You all will make them pay!" said Mrs. Kean fiercely.

Stiles whispered to Derek: "Do humans have Alphas too?"

Derek could only wonder.

The Argent boys were nowhere to be found over the next few weeks. Scott told Allison they had stabbed Danny, and she had gone home in such a fury that even her unflappable parents caved in to her demand that they leave the house and go back home at once. Her mother had tried to talk to her about the necessity of what they were doing when Allison grabbed the nearest vase and hurled it against the nearest wall where it shattered into smithereens.

"If they ever go near my friends again, I will use everything I learned from Aunt Kate and the two of you to make WHOEVER is responsible pay!"

The Argent parents looked at each other, and knew full well their daughter meant every word she said.

None of the others, and probably Scott as well, felt that this would keep the Argent clan or the other Hunters away forever. Deep down, with the instincts that had helped their kind survive through the centuries, they felt that the war had only been postponed, not forgotten.

School let out, and the three boys began to train in earnest with Derek, learning to utilize their abilities to the fullest. Despite the physical advantages they had, they were as bone tired at night as if they had played twenty Lacrosse games in a row as humans. Jackson was excelling at learning the other boy's fighting styles, and Scott had to grudgingly admit that it would be unlikely he could ever take him again. Danny, for all the he was the 'newbie', quickly surpassed both with a natural talent that impressed even Derek. He was quicker than the other two, equally strong, and adept at shifting tactics and using the environment to help him fight. All three boys lost copious amounts of blood, requiring that they eat plenty of meat heavy meals to help their bodies recover.

Stiles sat in on every training session, often listening to Derek's running commentary about how they were doing. One day, Derek realized how unusually quiet Stiles was at these times, and asked him what was wrong.

"There are days when I am really tempted to ask you to turn me. Then there are days…especially like this when they are busy ripping each other apart…that I think I must be insane for even considering it. Would you do it if I asked you?" said Stiles quietly. Derek knew he was really asking if he thought Stiles was 'worthy', so he answered as honestly as he could.

"If I thought you were completely sure, then yes I would. In fact, there have been a few times I've kicked myself for not asking _you._ You would be terrific, take it from someone who has an eye for these things. Personally, I think if you did it, you would surprise the hell out of those three mutts out there."

"Yeah? I really appreciate hearing that." Stiles looked extremely happy for a few minutes. "I may ask you. I may not. I don't…want to make an impulsive decision."

"I understand. Maybe when this war is over, you will come to a decision."

"I am fighting with you guys, werewolf or not." He said resolutely.

Derek had to admire him again, this runt of the litter who had so much potential in him. Like a true Omega, he bore the brunt of other people's aggression, yet deep down he had the strength and fighting spirit of a true Alpha.

Derek said nothing in response, not wishing to argue with the boy, though there was no way Derek was letting him near any battle as a human. He was not to be wasted like that. If push came to shove and it might save his life, Derek would turn him just like Danny, without hesitation. Somehow, and he couldn't say where this surety came from, Stiles was vital to the integrity of the Pack.

As if reading his thoughts, Stiles asked: "How big is a full pack, anyway? I mean, how many can you have before you can't take anymore? I don't want to miss the last spot."

"There is no set number. Most Packs consist of roughly 10 members, plus the Alpha, though a particularly strong Alpha can handle more. The largest I ever heard of was 42. But usually, any time you have more than 10 members, you run the risk of one of them spontaneously making the jump to become a new Alpha. Then he leaves and starts his own Pack. Sometimes he even takes some of the old members with him. Werewolves can be territorial, and you won't find two Packs in the same area."

"10, huh? That's a coincidence. That's the same number as-"

Whatever Stiles had been about to say was lost as the three boys chose that moment to leave off their training and return smiling and laughing (and completely covered in blood) to receive Derek's usual highly critical commentary.

"Oh, come on, Derek, lay off, we were doing great out there! Didn't you see when I almost bit off Scott's ear…" complained Jackson.

"Yeah, all this talk, and yet we never see you put anything you say into action. Why don't you _show_ us how it's done?" Scott said. Then he clasped his hands over his mouth, and looked at Jackson and Danny's horrified expressions.

Derek got up, and though the corners of his mouth were turned up, you would never call it a smile.

Stiles let out a small "Eep!"

"Excellent idea Scott. Back onto the field. Your training is about to take a on a whole new dimension."

The three boys backed up warily, shifting into full Beta state. They had a feeling what was coming. Jackson smacked Scott in the back of the head.

"Remind me to eat whatever is left over of you when he gets done." He snarled.

Derek took off his leather jacket, his t-shirt and shoes. He looked at them for a moment, the three snarling Betas, all sharp teeth and claws ready to rip and tear. Then he smirked.

Derek _exploded _outward in a fury of painful looking metamorphosis. The jeans lay shredded on the ground. The huge and monstrous Alpha wolf growled at them snarling viciously. Claws and fangs were double the size of any of the boys. It lunged at them, scattering the boys, Jackson leaping up into a tree, Danny jumping backward to land on the roof of his car (he thanked all the Saints he didn't land on Derek's Camaro) and Scott diving behind a boulder.

The Alpha went for Scott first, who raced along, zigzagging in an effort to slow the Alpha down. It was no contest in a straight run, only by dodging back and forth could he avoid the tremendous snapping jaws. Then the Alpha anticipated one of his 'zigs' and Scott was bowled over by the lupine equivalent of an 18 wheel truck. He was left on his back and breathless, reminding him of the days he needed his inhaler.

Jackson had not wasted this time, and was busy climbing the tree as high as he could. Though he was nimble enough, he forgot that just because he could pull himself to a branch, that didn't mean the branch could support his weight. A sharp snap later, and a very scared looking Beta plunged downward toward the huge open maw of the Alpha. Jackson wildly grabbed a branch and stopped his descent, but now was within reach the larger wolf. One backhand later and Jackson had become intimately familiar with the trunk of the tree, since his face and body were now mashed into it. The thing went for Danny last.

A leap, and the Alpha was on a flight path that would directly intersect with the newest werewolf. Danny leapt upward, but rather than flee, he made himself jump just high enough to land on the back of the Alpha as it reached the perch of the car roof. It was a clever maneuver, since the Alpha had to use a few precious seconds to maintain its perch, all the while with Danny biting and ripping at his back with claws. The Alpha fell off the roof, landing on top of Danny, stunning him and making him release his jaws. The Alpha flipped over like a pancake in the hands of a master chef, and prepared to go for Danny's neck. He was hit from both sides by Scott and Jackson who slammed into him with all of the force they could summon. Danny rolled out from under the enormous teeth and gave another short jump to land square on the Alpha's back for the second time.

All three Betas were now attacking furiously from the sides and from above when the Alpha stopped and gave one massive shrug. This freed him from all three attackers, at which point he gave the howl that signaled the end of the match.

The boys features slid back to human and they stood warily, watching their leader.

Derek shifted back slowly, and his naked body was a mass of scratches, bite marks, bruises and welts. And yet, he was beaming at them.

"That was the greatest lesson you guys could learn. When wolves fight together, you can take down any foe, no matter how…" in the middle of his speech, his eyes closed and he fell to the ground unconscious.

Stiles had watched the whole match from behind hand covered eyes. "No way, never want to do that…no freaking way…"

"Hopefully when he wakes up, he can finish teaching us 'The greatest lesson we could ever learn.'" Said Jackson sarcastically. Which of course was a joke. All four boys had learned the lesson very well.

"I also learned Danny likes to be on top." Said Scott, nudging Jackson, who laughed out loud.

"Yeah, let me know if you'd like me to continue your education in that regard, McCall." Said Danny in his most threatening voice.

The boys worked together for the second time, helping to drag their wounded leader back into the guest cottage.

Shortly before school started again, Derek's house was complete. A cleaning crew was finishing up removing all the dust and dirt on the morning of the last day, the painters and carpet layers having gotten done the day before. The electricity and water were turned on and the furniture truck had just arrived. The house looked like a show piece, with a Master suite, five spare bedrooms all with their own bathroom, a gymnasium in the finished basement, a library, a music room, dining room, spacious kitchen, family room, and a large deck attached to back with a built in barbecue. Derek could not speak as he took the boys on a tour of the rooms, the burned out house at last a thing of the past. For the first time, Derek felt he could put all of their ghosts to rest. This was a new house, and the old memories, though cherished, were from a different place altogether. Remembering the past, however, Derek made sure to have a sprinkler system installed.

The showpiece quality of the home was marred slightly by the arrival of the security people who installed a state of the art system with laser trip-wires, hidden camera, silent alarms, the whole nine yards. Having gotten the idea from a trashy book about vampires (Derek's reading tastes were terrible) he installed metal shutters that could slide down at the touch of a button over all the windows and entrances to the home, turning it into a fortress. He got the home appraised and insured (properly this time) should there ever be another arson attempt. Derek moved in, and Jackson was depressed for over a week that he was no longer as close as he liked. The four werewolves and the lone human had formed a close bond with each other. What had previously been difficult (especially for Jackson, and to a degree Scott) now became second nature to them. They supported each other, spent almost all of their time together, and argued and fought (of course) but deep down they each awaited the coming storm with a sense of dread. It was as if they felt that whether or not the war was won, the battle would cut some of the ties that had so recently been forged between them. It was this that they dreaded even more than losing.


	4. Chapter 4

With school back in session, the boys had to leave off their training sessions with Derek to get back into the swing of things; grades, Lacrosse practice, spending time with their families. Scott took a trip with just his mother, so they could have some time to catch up. Jackson's parents took him on trips nearly every weekend, and they visited all of the sightseeing spots California and Mexico had to offer. They talked of overseas trips during the summer, though Jackson was unsure how he would handle a month or more away from his friends…his Pack.

Danny and Stiles were the only two who were not traveling so much, and they were also the ones who saw the least of their parents. Mrs. Kean came to pick up Danny one night (his car was finally in the shop to repair the damage Derek had done to it) and was introduced to Sheriff Stilinski. The boys were forgotten as the two began to talk and share stories about what it was like to raise a child as a single parent. Stiles had worried about Scott's mother hooking up with his dad (he felt this would be incestuous for some reason) but the two were just good friends. It looked like there was definitely a spark there with Mrs. Kean, however.

"So, tell me Maria, how did you do it? Stiles was such a handful with his ADHD…"

Stiles rolled his eyes, and Danny snickered at him, telling him they should start figuring out how to decorate their bedroom once they were officially stepbrothers.

"Blasphemy. I am and always will be an only child." Insisted Stiles.

"Come on, I promise not to sneak over to your bed in the middle of the night and…" here his eyes turned yellow, "…eat you like a piece of fried chicken!"

Stiles pretended to sigh with relief. "For a minute there, I thought you were going to say something else. Tell me something. If I _were_ your stepbrother, would you still find me attractive?"

Danny smacked him on the back of the head.

All of the boys thought of Derek Hale, in the new house all by himself. It made them feel a nagging pain in their chests, though none of them discussed this with the others. The Pack mentality was fully awakened in each of them, and it bothered them to be away from their leader.

The next blow came when Coach Bobby Finstock announced he was taking a position at Berkeley University to coach their newly formed collegiate Lacrosse team. Danny, Scott and Jackson were again reminded of the pain of loss, although they of course congratulated him and wished him good luck. A big party was thrown, and the Coach was sent off in style. The next day, Principal Woodard came in and told the boys that they already had a new candidate for the position. The boys rolled their eyes, hating the idea of breaking in a new coach.

The groans stopped as soon as he was introduced. It was Derek Hale.

The three werewolf players were open-mouthed for all of a minute, and then jumped up cheering and screaming. The other seven members of the First Line looked at them for a minute, then shrugged their shoulders and accepted the replacement stoically. If this was okay with their three best players, then it was okay with them.

"I say again, we will have a KICK-ASS Lacrosse team this year!" Danny exulted.

"As you boys know, in addition to my coaching responsibilities, I am required to teach classes, some of which you boys will be in. My certification is in Mathematics. Anyone with less than a B average in my class or anyone else's will be suspended from the team. You are all excellent players, and so I do not want to lose ANY of you."

For a second, his eyes flashed red. The human boys caught it and sucked in their breath in fright.

"I HATE losing, especially kids that I am…coaching." His eyes briefly darted to Danny, Jackson and Scott.

"So you will all keep your grades in the B range at minimum. Any difficulties with this should be addressed with me privately. Believe me when I say I can… motivate you to try harder."

All ten boys gulped.

Scott looked crestfallen. "I have a C+/B- average. That was always good enough for Finstock!" He put his head in his hands.

"I'm doomed!" he said.

"Sucks to be you." Said Danny and Jackson together. They both had straight A's.

If the boys thought Coach Finstock was merciless, they were about to redefine their perception of the word. Coach Hale made Finstock look like a kindly grandmother who slipped kids chocolate chip cookies every chance she got. He was relentless on the field, pushing the boys to the limits of their abilities. He built up their endurance with vigorous calisthenics, endless training sessions and any who slacked off were made to run suicide laps for hours. In math class, he was equally strict, expecting full attention. The class soon learned how good he was at hearing whispers, which he would repeat loudly to the room to the embarrassment of the offenders. He could also tell who understood the concepts he was teaching and who was having trouble. He met with these children in mandatory tutoring sessions during their free periods to keep them up to speed with the class. Soon the other teachers were whispering about him as well, some jealous at the sheer inexorable progress students made under his care. Derek of course heard all of these whispers as well, but pretended ignorance. Incoming freshmen were quickly advised not to screw with "Hard-ass Hale" lest they get their own asses handed to them.

'Coach' Hale still somehow found time to train the boys to hone their lycanthropic fighting skills. Between all of his demands on their time, Danny, Jackson and Scott were always bone-tired in a way that they hadn't been since they were human.

"Oh, God, I can't take it anymore!" said Scott, hyperventilating. Hale made him feel like his asthma had come back.

"You have to admit, though, his technique works." Said Jackson, ever loyal to Derek.

In the coach's office, Derek leaned far back in his chair and smirked, hearing every word the boys said.

"Doesn't hurt that he is smoking hot, too." Said Danny.

A crashing sound from the office told them that 'Hard-ass Hale' had just fallen off his chair.

During Easter break, Scott informed them of a talk he had the night before with Allison. The Argents and their contacts were gathering. While Mark and his flunkies were not among them, the anti-werewolf sentiment was running high. They knew the identities of all four werewolves in town. Some expressed frustration at the lack of werewolf related deaths, preferring the traditional code of only 'Hunting that which Hunts us', but they were quickly shouted down by those who were worried about Derek's 'recruiting'. If they didn't know Danny was one before, they certainly knew after he recovered from fatal injuries overnight. The fact that Derek Hale was now a teacher and coach led them to assume the worst.

"Let me get this straight. They almost kill Danny, and then they become suspicious when Derek recruits him?" Scott asked. Allison shrugged her shoulders.

"They are just blind. We have to accept the fact that they will come for you guys. I will be there with you. No way I am letting you fight this alone. Argent against Argent. I wonder if that ever happened in our history before. Scott…my parents are staying out of this. I told the rest of my family what I felt. Don't feel you have to hold yourself back because you will lose me if you hurt them. Do what you have to do, you are the one I care about. There are good Hunters in my family, but the rest have taken it on themselves to wipe out anything supernatural in the world. Just…because."

"Why does Mark have it in for me so bad? You?"

"No. Didn't you know? He's my cousin. My Aunt Kate was his mother."

Scott looked at her, shocked.

"What?"

"She had him when she was a teenager, with another Hunter. The father took him in to let Kate finish her training, and he trained Mark as well. After Aunt Kate…well he just went off the deep end. Endless training, steroids. I guess he wants to be the ultimate warrior. I told him that the Alpha that killed his mother was destroyed, but that didn't seem to satisfy him. He's worse than the rest of them now, and the more aggressive ones use him as a poster boy.

The boys went to Derek with this information. He looked unhappy at Allison wanting to fight with them, but it was obviously not his call to make.

The boys returned to school, and after the next Lacrosse competitive game with the Little Rock Lions (who were soundly thrashed) they took the time to celebrate. It was the coach's habit not to spoil a victory with criticism (at least, not until the next day) so they just gave themselves over to partying on the field. Their mascot suddenly removed the giant wolf head of his costume to reveal…Stiles. In an effort to be part of the team, he had insisted on being the mascot. He claimed dressing as a giant wolf would help him make his decision about the Pack. The boys lifted him up over their heads, shouting and cheering, and carried him to the locker room for a traditional dunking in Gatorade (no one quite had the nerve to try this on the coach, so they switched over to the mascot). Stiles, an Omega in spirit, happily went along with it, loving the feeling of being a real and valued member of the Lacrosse team. As the other boys entered the locker room, Hale stopped his Pack members for a private word.

"Listen. I didn't want to say this before the game, but the Argents are going to try something. My contacts tell me that they are gearing up, weapons, explosives…"

And as if the word were magic, at precisely that instant an explosion sounded from the field locker room. Glass blew out through all of the windows, and a hole broke open in one wall. The remaining students and teachers began screaming in panic as the building caught on fire.

Derek's eyes flared crimson as he looked at the fire, stunned beyond action as for a brief second, he was carried back to his past and the loss of his family. Then all four of them rushed into the burning building.

For a miracle, all seven of the boys on the team were not seriously injured. They stumbled quickly out of the burning building into the arms of their frantic parents.

Sheriff Stilinski and Maria Kean ran up as Derek and the boys emerged, Stiles' unconscious body held in his arms. Derek laid the boy on the ground, real tears pouring from his eyes…eyes that were flashing menacingly red. The team, the coach and the all of the parents looked down at the burned and unmoving body of the boy in the oversized wolf costume. Sheriff Stilinski fell to his knees, completely unmanned, and cradled his son's head. He had to be physically pulled off by Hale and the paramedics before he would allow them to load Stiles into a waiting ambulance. Mrs. Kean was crying too…and Derek saw her eyes flash at him once. Only he heard the one word she whispered.

"Monsters."

Later…

For the second time, Derek found the Lacrosse team waiting in a hospital hallway in support of one of their own fallen members. This time, the boys had the shell-shocked look of combat veterans. Their faces were full of fear…and rage. While Stiles had not been actually on the team, in his short time as their mascot they had become as endeared to him as if he were a lifelong friend. Stiles' condition was stable, but he had been closest to the bomb when it went off and the full extent of the damage would be unknown for some time. Ironically, his dunking in Gatorade had likely prevented more serious burning. The bomb had been placed in Hale's office, and Stiles was just opening the door to leave a gift that the team had pitched in for on his chair. He saw the bomb, slammed the door and was about to shout when it went off. Constant tests were being done, and between the ever-vigilant sheriff and hospital staff (who had not forgotten the incident with Danny) there was no chance of being alone with him to administer a bite. Derek swore to himself he would turn Stiles the minute he recovered and was released. If he recovered.

An investigation under Sheriff Stilinski's personal control was launched. With the help of an anonymous tip, the Argents and their extended family were implicated in the bombing. Stilinski called in federal agents who quickly rounded up the majority of the Hunters, their locations and weapon stores being given in the anonymous tip. Enough explosives were found to blow up a hundred buildings, and it was obvious that this 'extremist terrorist' group were planning something big. The connection between Hale, Kate and Mark Argent were explored as motive, though Mark and his friends were the only ones not caught. The reporter had not known their whereabouts.

On another of the innumerable visits to the hospital, Sheriff Stilinski, Maria Kean, and the three boys sat together. The team was downstairs in the cafeteria. They had been spending every night there, and had just received the news that Stiles was in a coma from which he might never awake…and if he did, he might not be the Stiles that they remembered. Jackson looked grim, and walked out of the room.

Whatever had been holding the Sheriff together up to this point finally gave out and he collapsed in a chair, weeping openly and unashamedly. "This is all my fault. I should have kept an eye on him, made sure he was safe…"

Mrs. Kean had enough.

She stood up and addressed the room.

"Well? What is to be done about this? Twice they have attacked us, and twice we have done nothing! When will the fight be brought to them?"

"I am going after them. Alone. I can't lose anyone else. This is all my fault. They were after me; if I hadn't decided to become their coach…" That was as far as Derek got.

Mrs. Kean picked up a chair and slammed it into the soda machine. Before it expired, 4 cans of free soda popped out of it to roll across the floor. She had everyone's attention. Even the Sheriff looked at her with blank shock.

"What is it with you men that you put blame everywhere but where it belongs? These men did not care that they hurt children! No one in this town is safe while they are out there. If we do nothing, _then_ we are truly responsible!"

Derek got up and stalked over to her, his eyes glowing bright crimson. If she felt any fear at all (and Derek did not smell any) she showed no sign.

"There aren't enough of us. They are skilled at hunting us. I have three boys barely into their first year. These men have been training their whole life. It will be a slaughter!"

"There are enough of us now." Said Jackson from the hallway. "The boys are on their way up. Derek…remember that last assignment you gave me? Well consider it mission fucking accomplished. They know everything, I showed them, and they want in."

Sheriff Stilinski looked at Jackson in bewilderment.

"Into what?"

And Jackson let the wolf emerge, causing the Sheriff to back up and unconsciously reach for his pistol. Mrs. Kean slapped his hand away. He looked at Scott, Danny and Derek (all partially shifted now), and leaned slowly against the wall. "Into what?" he repeated.

"Into the Pack."

It took some time to explain it all to the Sheriff, and he seemed equally amazed that Maria had known all about it, and calmly accepted it.

"Is Stiles…is my son…?" he gasped out, still shocked.

"If he were, he would already be recovered." Said Derek. "He was unsure. I respected his wishes. Scott was turned by my uncle, against his will. I don't do that. Jackson asked for it, and Mrs. Kean asked on her son's behalf because he was nearly dead."

"Can this save him? _CAN THIS SAVE MY SON?"_ shouted the Sheriff.

"It can. Danny's injuries required all three of us to be near him when he turned. Now, though Danny was mortally injured, there was not in fact extensive damage to his body overall. Stiles is in pretty bad shape for all that his condition is stable. If I turned these boys, we may have a much better shot at saving your son."

"We're here, coach. We're ready. Send us into the game. Nobody messes with our mascot and gets away with it."

At the door stood the Lacrosse team, having just arrived.

Tim Stevens, Frank Kretzsky, Peter Burke, Thomas Wayne, Patrick Yan, Brian Forbeshire, and LeRoy Rodgers.

Derek turned to the Sheriff.

"Um, we are going to need some privacy." Maria took his arm, and led him from the room."

"Okay boys, back out now if you are going to back out." Said Derek grimly.

No one moved.

"Right. This may be a little scary for you…"

"Coach, you already scare us. We're used to it." Patrick Yan, the only Chinese player on the team pointed out.

"Right. Now it's our turn to scare them. For Danny, and Stiles." LeRoy put in, his thick Jamaican accent adding a peculiar elegance to the words.

"Let's do it then. Boys, hold out your left forearms and come to me one at a time."

The boys obeyed, and to their credit, not a single one of them cried out in pain.

After the boys went home, with instructions to return to the hospital as soon as visiting hours began tomorrow, Derek met privately with Sheriff Stilinsky.

"They will turn by tomorrow. Then we will try to save Stiles. If you are sure that this is what you want for him."

The Sheriff was quiet.

"Stiles…I always worried about him. The ADHD…his tendency to get into trouble, to get bullied…I did everything I could to make him tough. Sometimes, I wondered if I was too hard on him, other times…he drove me insane." The Sheriff laughed aloud thinking of Stiles antics over the years.

"Derek, I want him exactly the same. This won't change _him_, will it?"

"It may get rid of the ADHD."

The Sheriff considered. "I'm okay with that."

The next morning, ten young Lacrosse playing werewolves arrived at the hospital. They met with Derek and he requested them to formally acknowledge him as their Alpha and leader, and each other as Pack brothers.

They did so, and Derek was not the only one to feel the sense of raw power that was flowing through them…between them…Scott, Jackson and Danny would be no less surprised then the newbies at how far they would shift now, at how great their powers had grown. His pack was full at last…except for one other. Derek found the Sheriff, and told him it was time.

He nodded curtly, led them to Stiles' room, and told the medical staff in no uncertain terms to get out.

"But Sheriff…" blustered the same doctor that had presided over Danny.

"But nothing. My son was a part of their team, and it was the happiest time of his life. He would want this and he is going to get it. Out! NOW!" he barked.

As an Officer of the law, there was no higher authority to appeal to, so the doctors and nurses filed out.

Once the room was secured, Derek thought of asking the Sheriff to leave…then changed his mind.

"This may be difficult for you to see." He said quietly.

"Stiles dressed as a wolf and being dunked into Gatorade by his friends…and him _liking it._ That was difficult to see. _This_ will be a piece of cake."

The team shifted, and each took a place around Stiles, laying a clawed hand anywhere they could find a bare patch of skin. Derek looked down at him. There was the tiniest chance…nah, that was one in a million. Without any hesitation, Derek lifted up Stiles left arm, regarded it for a moment, and bit.

With ten Betas and one Alpha, Stiles turned in less than half an hour.

The machines went haywire for about five seconds…and then all registered green.

Stiles opened his eyes. He took in a slow deep breath.

They all jumped backward as he suddenly shouted:

"WATCH OUT, THERE'S A BOMB!"

Derek, his heart beating at over two hundred per minute (the boys looked no better and the Sheriff looked like he was truly having a heart attack) grunted: "Yeah, Stiles, you're a little late on that."

The next few days were a blur for Derek Hale. As an Alpha of a full pack (well, OVERFULL pack), he worked to get the newest members into the shape they would need to be in for the coming battle.

Lacrosse was forgotten, and the school itself was closed until repairs could be made and it could be sure there were no further threats. No one knew how the bomb had been placed, and so new security measures would have to be implemented. Jackson's father facilitated the rebuilding of the field house and was donating some of the same top of the line security measures that Derek had installed in his home. Derek himself received a honorary citation from the school for rescuing Stiles from the fire. Everyone was pleased when Stiles himself was released, none the worse for wear. When asked how he felt, he stated "Different." And would speak no more. For the first time, he joined in the sport he had seen his best friends engage in so often (and for which he came up with his own name); Werewolf Kombat.

It was an amazing thing to watch. As Derek had suspected long ago, Stiles had inner strengths that had only just now emerged with the acquisition of his inner wolf. He could summon or dismiss it with an ease only matched by Derek himself, he was lightning fast (he made Danny look slow and clumsy by comparison) and he was stronger than both Scott and Jackson. It was as if all of the pent-up energy his ADHD unwisely provided him had at last found the proper channel in the wolf that could make full use of it. No longer a hindrance, it ramped up his powers to a new level. Derek was unsure he wanted to test his own abilities against him, lest he lose the respect of the Pack.

Anytime he trounced one (or two, or three of the others at the same time) he would shout "FATALITY! Told you guys you were my bitches!"

Scott and Jackson, hiding behind a boulder, and so far the only two to not receive a 'fatality' (that day) remembered the promise he made long ago.

"Oh, I SO want to kick his ass!" muttered Jackson, bloody and shivering.

"Shhh, he'll hear you!" hissed Scott squinting his two black eyes painfully.

Overall, it took four of the other Betas to subdue Stiles at any time. There were nervous mutterings among the group about who Stiles would be replacing if he ever decided to try out for Lacrosse again, but he remained thrilled with his role as mascot when they started playing practice games again and everyone relaxed. The new wolf costume looked ominous on him rather than silly, now.

The Sheriff was delighted to have his son back, but still remained worried about the remaining Argents and whatever they might have planned. This did not stop him from formally asking Maria Kean to marry him; she accepted, and the date was set for June 30th of that year. All of the gang was invited, and Danny and Stiles accepted the fact that they were going to be stepbrothers as well as Pack brothers.

"And, dude, when I'm asleep…stay out of my room!" Danny asked nervously. More and more, he was the one that felt like a piece of fried chicken around the other boy.

"I can't promise anything. You know how I get peckish in the night…" he said, grinning at Danny his eyes flashing yellow.


	5. Chapter 5

INTERLUDE (WITHIN AN INTERLUDE): BONDS

Both Mrs. Kean and Sheriff Stilinski put their houses on the market, and used the money to purchase a luxury home in the community that Jackson's father had finally opened to the public. The boys picked out their own bedrooms, and on moving day elected to rent a truck rather than use a service since between the boys and their friends, the job would likely take half the time.

The couple looked at their children feeling a similar ache in their chests at how those children had grown and…changed. Danny walked by, eyes yellow, panting only slightly as he carried a grandfather clock over to the truck and hopped in. Stiles was next, easily carrying the living room sofa over his head, whistling. "Showoff!" called Danny. His father shook his head.

"I guess I don't have to worry about school bullies picking on our boys anymore."

Maria smiled, then leaned her head into his shoulder. "They are both warriors, and always have been. You should be very proud of Stiles…he has faced much with a brave heart."

Stilinski, remembering how nearly he had lost his son (the memory still made him break down into tears) nodded his head.

"Stiles is brave. Makes me look like a coward. I worry about what Derek says is coming. But I agree, the Argent boys have to be stopped. Not jailed. I realized I stopped being Sheriff when they hurt my son, because all I wanted to do was kill the bastards. This will be my last term. I will be officially retired, and am looking forward to collecting my pension. The office deserves an objective, impartial policeman. That isn't me anymore."

Maria was silent, inwardly grateful at hearing this since her one concern was worrying about the danger of his job. Beacon Hills had recently become a very dangerous place to live.

The Sheriff drove the moving van with Stiles, while Maria took Danny in her car to the new home.

Stiles was still whistling, when the Sheriff made a coughing sound.

The whistling stopped. Stiles turned his wolf-yellow eyes on his father. "Yeah, dad?"

The Sheriff glanced at him. "Can you turn that off? It's kind of creepy."

Stiles passed one hand over his face, his eyes a familiar brown a moment later.

"Ta-da!"

"Oh, lord, this is going to take some getting used to. You, and Danny. A week ago, I didn't know werewolves existed. Now I've got two of them."

"You don't have a werewolf, dad. You have me, your son, Stiles. I am the same kid I used to be. And so is Danny, although you didn't know Danny that well before he was bit, so you have no way of knowing the old him…" For the first time ever, Stiles self-regulated one of his ramblings and quieted down. The old Stiles couldn't have done that.

"Why are you stronger than the rest of them? Danny is bigger than you, but he keeps out of your way when he sees you coming."

"Not sure. Maybe it's because so many of us were there when Derek bit me. He says we're stronger together, maybe his bite was more powerful or something."

"Derek, he's different than you boys."

"Derek's an Alpha, a pack leader. We have to do what he says. Unless it's a strip tease. We'd never do that, not that he'd ask. Well, maybe Danny would-"

Stiles shut up when his father groaned aloud.

"Are you going to fight the Argents with them?"

Stiles was quiet for a minute. Then: "I have to, Dad. The Pack is my family, too."

"Stiles, when they told me you might never wake up, all I wanted to do was find a deep dark hole and fall into it. I can't stop you. You're not a little boy I can send to his room anymore. I am asking you not to fight. I keep seeing you almost dead in that ridiculous wolf costume-"

"Snarls."

"What?"

"The mascot's name is Snarls, dad. And when I wore him, that was the first time in my life I felt I fit in with the guys."

"They dunked you in GATORADE!"

"Only because they're too afraid of Derek. Do you know what it's like to see the most popular kids in school run up to you and carry you on their shoulders, to know that every time they win a game, they feel they owe some of that victory to you? The Argents hurt me, Dad. Hurt my friends. No way am I going to let them down." Stiles let out a deep breath. "I know how you feel. Believe me, I do. Every night I would lose sleep worrying that the phone would ring, and it would be a voice telling me that you were killed in the line of duty. I kept wondering what I would do without you, how I would even get through the next day. I never thought I would make it. I'm sorry I made you feel like that for even a minute, Dad. You had no way of knowing Derek could save me. But all I remember you telling me when I was little was that 'Stilinskis stand up for themselves, no matter what.' Now, you tell me the truth. I'll be able to hear it if you lie. Would your respect for me go down even the tiniest bit if I sat out the fight?"

"Son, I love you no matter what." He said in a thick voice. Tears shimmered in the older man's eyes. He struggled to control himself.

"I know that's true. But that isn't what I asked."

"Stiles-"

"I'm fighting, Dad."

With a broken sob, the Sheriff gave up, tears freely flowing down his face. No matter how the battle turned out, he had still lost his little boy.

{}{}{}

Elsewhere, Scott and Allison walked through the forest surrounding the Hale house, although Scott did not intend to see Derek until much later. The forest held many memories for them both, and they found themselves able to talk and think more freely here when a difficult subject needed to be discussed.

"Allison, I know you want to fight with us, but it worries me that you're human and it will be Standing Room Only for werewolves and Hunters. You could get hurt, and…"

He had been going to say: "You're the only reason I'm doing this." But he realized that was no longer true. Scott and Stiles had both grown up in single parent homes as only children, and Scott never realized what he had been missing by not having a large family. It occurred to him that he was doing this for _all_ of them. Every member of his Pack, Derek, their families…

Had Allison suddenly declared love for someone else and moved away, he would still be here fighting for his life alongside his brothers.

"I've made my choice, Scott. And I've already paid the price for it. My parents are the only members of my family who will talk to me now. They all figured it was me who called in that anonymous tip. Idiots, they don't realize I probably saved their lives. The town would have lynched them for what they did. I still cannot believe they put all of those kids at risk. That bomb was set to go off the moment someone opened the door. How could they possibly know it would be Derek? They didn't care. As for the ones that are still out there, Mark and his friends…" her voice grew suddenly cold: "…they deserve what's coming to them."

Scott shivered, thankful that he was not on her bad side.

"Do you regret…that I'm one of them?" Scott asked quietly.

"Oh, Scott. You know it threw me to find out, but that was shock…and I was a little hurt that you hadn't told me. Then there were the lies. And the disappearing acts. And the –"

"Okay, okay. I get it." He said, laughing guiltily.

"I'm just glad that part is over with. Things have been great with us since then. If I wish you were human, it's only because things are so much more dangerous for us now. Does it bother you that I'm _still _human?" she asked, poking him in the ribs.

"WHAT? No! You don't have to worry about that, by the way. Derek would rather bite off his own arm than turn an Argent, and he's the only Alpha around.

Scott looked at her sideways.

"You would make a hot werewolf, though. Just saying."

Allison smacked him on the head.

{}{}{}

At the Hale house, Derek and Jackson went over their battle plans. Derek realized he was talking to himself when he noticed Jackson's eyes were completely unfocused.

"What is it, Jackson?"

"Why did you pick me to be your second in command, Derek?" The question had been running around in his head all day.

Derek looked up at him.

"Don't you know? You were my first. I know Scott's got seniority, and Stiles is a walking Disaster Area but you were my first Pack member. And I admire how every time I gave you an assignment, you came through with flying colors. If I had known, I wouldn't have given you such a hard time that first night. Hell, I would have bitten you, like it or not."

"You know, you were the first person to see the real me. Past the looks, the car. You saw the shallow spoiled uncaring shit I was, and took a chance on me anyway. I will never stop…being grateful for that. I can't imagine what my life would have been like if you rejected me."

"Jackson, the real you was UNDER all of that shallow bullshit. I just had to blow it up with dynamite to get the real you out. THIS is the real you. The one who has been trying to free himself his whole life. I wonder if that was the side of you that wanted the bite, seeing a chance to escape. I could never understand how, as terrified as you were, you came to that house. That is not the mark of a shallow, self-centered coward. Something in you made you risk that pretty face of yours."

Jackson chuckled.

"I would rather die than disappoint you, you know. In a way, I look at you like my Dad."

Derek groaned. "I am not nearly old enough to be…"

"I know! That's not what I meant. Crap, that came out wrong. I mean that you have all my respect, and all I can think of is how I can make you proud of me. You know I was adopted, and I never did find out who my parents were, or why they gave me up. My folks took me in and gave me a life that other kids would kill for, but I felt that I never… earned it. I love my folks. They did so much for me, but there is literally nothing I could do to disappoint them. I thought they would be proud of me for being Lacrosse Captain, getting the girls, getting the grades…and they were. But one day, I realized I could hand them a crumpled piece of paper and say it was an art project I made for them, and my mom would have it framed. You…you gave me goals, set the bar pretty high, and let me fly or fail on my own. It didn't matter where I came from, you dealt with _me…_and if you say you're proud of me, I know I earned it. Don't ever stop being 'Hard-ass Hale' with me. I need it."

"Is _that_ what the kids call me these days?" Derek smirked.

"As if you didn't know."

"Well, I have to say, I never thought anyone would want me to _keep_ being…as demanding as I am."

"After we take down the Argents…I want to know…if I can stay with you. Ever since I've been in your Pack, I realized I never wanted to be anywhere else. You guys are all I think about. It killed me when you moved out of that guest cottage."

"That's a side effect of being in a Pack, Jackson. All of the kids feel it to some degree, even Scott…now. You're only 18. I don't want to stand in the way of your life-"

"This is my life. The Pack is my life." He hesitated only a second. "_You're_ my life." And as no lie can be spoken between werewolves, Derek looked down and said: "Let me think about it."

Jackson flicked his finger against a startled Derek's forehead.

"Don't think, Derek." Jackson placed his hand on his Alpha's chest, feeling the quickening heartbeat under the thin shirt and taut skin. Derek grabbed the wrist as if to pull it away, and then slowly, tremblingly, covered Jackson's hand with his own.

"Jackson..._I can't..."_

"I _was_ terrified that first night. But I don't think I need to tell you that the bite wasn't… all I wanted. If one or both of us get killed, I just wanted you to know."

Derek rubbed his forehead with his free hand at the sweat that suddenly sprang from his overheated skin.

"We'll talk. When all of this is over. And if I never said it before, I _am_ proud of you."

Slowly, the hands broke contact and dropped down to their sides. They went back to making their battle plans. Now it was Derek who was distracted.

The entire Pack met that night at Derek's house. They sat in a loose circle out behind the house in a small clearing. A fire blazed in the center of the ring. Overhead, a bloated and ghost white moon hung suspended in the sky, almost but not quite full.

All the boys felt the pull of the moon in their bodies. For some, it would be their first experience with the maddening increase in drives and power that their ancient goddess gave to her followers.

"Tomorrow night, at moonrise, we will be at the height of our power. It is the best time to strike. The Hunters know this, and will likely be prepared for us. Their base is up North in Red Falls. It's an abandoned pharmaceutical plant. I think some of their science people have been cooking up some kind of biological weapon. I was not able to gather any intelligence on what it does, but I imagine it is not a werewolf vitamin."

The boys snickered nervously. Jackson, on Derek's right, glanced over at Stiles and Scott on his left. All of the boys' faces were grave, and tight with worry.

"Therefore, the watchword will be 'stealth'. No rushing in to attack. We circle the place then close in slowly, taking out any armed guards as quietly as possible. You know the techniques; you've been trained in them enough times. If they are able to cry out for help, well, our job will be that much harder. If they manage to get a shot into you, frankly I don't know what would happen. Likely, you would die."

Derek looked around at them, his hard gaze seeming to drill into each of them.

"I don't want to lose a single one of you, but I find it hard to believe we will be that fortunate. You have all prepared your families?"

The boys nodded. Some of them still looked shell-shocked from the experience. Most had taken it less well than the Stilinskis.

"Tomorrow, we will be more wolf like, more deadly than ever before. Use every ounce of that power to stay alive, and destroy the Argents!" Derek's form changed, and the Alpha stood before them. The group followed suit, the bestial faces giving rise to a collective howl that froze the soul of every animal in the forest. Then they broke apart on what might be their last hunt together. Even though the moon was not yet full, the Pack surpassed the Beta phase that was the usual extent of their transformation. Their bodies were now covered with a light coating of fur, and their faces struggled to push outward into lupine muzzles. The Pack found an enormous stag, proud sharp antlers telling of great age and power. It went down under their combined fury, and the Alpha was allowed to take the choicest bits for himself before the others fed in a frenzy. These morsels he shared with one other of the Pack who never left his side. They ate together, slightly apart from the others.

{}{}{}

In the deep hours of the night, in a darkened hospital room, Lydia Martin lay on the pristine hospital sheets. Physically, her wounds had healed; the scarring minimal. As for her mind, the machines registered a dungeon of sleep so deep it was not even possible she dreamed. Two men stood over her, having slipped unnoticed past the reception desk.

"The serum should have rendered her immune from the werewolf contagion. Not caused…this." Said the taller of the two.

"Her body did not have enough time to build up the immunity. It should have been given to her weeks before. The serum and the contagion fight within her. We have to negate the serum, now." Said the shorter, stout man.

"But then she will become one of them!"

"It is either that, or death."

"Death might be better."

"And it is always an option, later. A corpse is of no use to us now."

So saying, a silver syringe was produced and its contents were injected into the intravenous line. The men watched the blue fluid creep slowly down the plastic tube before finally disappearing into the pale limp arm. Overhead, an EKG monitor began to blip faster.

A/N – The votes are in, and the "ship" has sailed. (I guess the story officially leaves canon, unless the writers are planning a HUGE surprise for us in Season 2) I kind of think I was planning this from the beginning anyway. Lydia fans will be happy to know she makes a (conscious) appearance in the next chapter; she's one of the characters it is a little harder for me to write (Allison is the other). Stiles is mostly (lol) straight in THIS story anyway and Danny will find love. As per a fan request, there will also be a female werewolf. Please don't think I am dragging my feet and making the plot move so slowly, writing this has been so wonderful I don't want to stop anytime soon. Thanks to everyone for ideas, suggestions, and reviews. Sorry for the short chapter! It all goes down (hopefully) in the next!


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles entered the hospital room around noon before the showdown with the Argents. He had purposely kept himself from thinking of Lydia, unable to touch the ice cold core of grief inside him that she had come to this. The wasted potential of her life, all of her dreams, ambitions, the devastation of her family, the grief of her friends. It was just too painful. The night at the Formal, he had come within a hair of his lifelong dream coming true; claiming his first and only love for himself. Like an unattainable goddess on a mountaintop, he never really felt that he would do more than worship her from afar…but he had been so close.

Now, no one can have her. The pain of almost imagining she was his…Stiles caught himself growling low in his throat. If Peter Hale were not already dead…

He took a deep breath, and launched into the speech he had rehearsed.

"Hey Lydia. It's me, Stiles. There's a chance I may die tonight, and not long ago we could have been coma buddies, so I didn't want to let the chance to say goodbye to you slip through my fingers. The Formal, before Peter… tried to turn you...well, up to that point, it was one of the happiest nights of my life. I got to pretend, at least to myself, that…"

He couldn't finish. His voice broke, and tears flowed from his yellowed eyes. He began again.

"The Argents. They've been trying to kill us. Now the whole Lacrosse team has turned, and Derek's taking us to fight them on their own turf. It'll be a full moon, we'll be strong and powerful…and I think some of us may die. If one of them is me, well…Lydia Martin… (here the tears were flowing freely) I need to tell you I have loved you all of my life with my whole heart." Stiles sniffed, and then took a deep breath. "You couldn't return that feeling, and I understand, but if I go down fighting, you will be my last thought on earth. Promise… to look for me on the other side. I'll be waiting."

Wiping his tears, and turning off the wolf eyes, he stood. A thought occurred to him, and made him smile. Here was Lydia, the fairy tale princess. In a cheesy story, he could awaken her with a kiss. The idea was part creepy, but hey, he was heading off to get killed. He stood by her bedside, studied the perfect features once more, and leaned down.

"Do it and die, Stilinski." said Lydia, her eyes opening to reveal that perfect sky blue color.

Stiles gave a small shriek and slipped backwards, falling on his ass on the hospital floor.

The goddess…the fairy tale princess, sat up in the hospital bed and gave a cheek stretching yawn ending in a light burp.

"Ugh. No way is our first kiss going to be with me having coma-breath and not a stitch of make-up on, wearing this shroud. It's going to be perfect, and I am going to _destroy_ you for all other women…forever."

She swung her legs off the bed, and methodically and viciously began to disconnect herself from all of the machinery. Alarms sounded, and a nurse rushed in.

"Ms. Martin, you agreed this morning to wait until the tests came back! No one expected you to wake up…um, this soon, and we have to see…"

"Things have changed. There are things I need to do. Clothes, release paperwork and make-up bag. NOW!"

The nurse fled.

Stiles stood up slowly, wanting to give her a hug, but joyfully afraid she would slug him.

"I listened to your heart through that whole speech. It wasn't Shakespeare, but you meant it. I am such an ass. Going after Jackson, knowing how much that Formal meant to you…it was inexcusable. I'm-"

"Don't say it. You don't have to." He said quickly.

She smiled at him, then took the bundle offered to her by the returning nurse and stepped into the bathroom. The nurse looked at Stiles.

"That your girlfriend?" she asked.

"Yeah…yeah! I think so!" he babbled, grinning.

She shook her head pityingly. "Kid…good luck." The nurse left.

When she emerged from the shower, feeling more alive than ever before, she checked her face in the mirror. She should have looked wasted after being asleep so long, but her face looked as fresh and flawless as ever...except for the golden yellow that replaced the usual blue of her eyes.

"Shit. What outfit goes with _that_ color?"

Her nails were a wreck, clipped short by some clueless hospital staffer.

Narrowing her eyes, she stared at her fingernails until they began to grow into sharpened claws. A little polish, some buffing... oh, there were some definite perks to this. Teeth were brushed, flossed, mouth washed.

She dressed, then methodically applied her make-up, knowing that Stiles would wait an age for her if she wished…not that she wanted to make him wait.

After her hair was dried, styled and arranged to her satisfaction, she glanced at the completed picture.

The vision she presented to Stiles when she opened the door stopped his heart in his chest.

"I'd say 'the bitch is back', but that's tired. Tomorrow, we are going to spend the day watching 'The Notebook' and discussing its finer points. How does that sound?"

"Awesome!" he exclaimed. He meant it. She rolled her eyes.

"It's no fun for me if you ACTUALLY enjoy it! Let's go."

"Where?" he asked, bewildered.

"To meet up with the rest of the boys. No one puts my boy toy in a coma but me. Their 'nads are going to be my new earrings. Eeew, did I just say that?"

"L-lydia-" he stuttered.

"Even Jackson knew better than to argue with me, Stiles."

He shut up. They left, Stiles walking just a few steps behind the unstoppable Lydia. Stiles filled Lydia in on everything that happened since the Formal, which she took in without interruption. Somehow she was able to keep up with Stiles' conga line of run-on sentences.

When they arrived at the house, Jackson, in his role of second-in-command, was going over last minute details with the group. That all stopped as he looked, speechless, at the girl he never thought he would see awake again.

"Lydia? Oh my God…" He rushed over to her, followed by a joyful Scott and Allison.

Allison got to her first, and the two friends hugged for long minutes while she briefly described her miraculous recovery.

Derek approached, listening to the tail end of her story.

"The bite has never taken so long to work on someone, Lydia. Any idea why that might be?"

"None. What's your guess?" she asked.

"The Argents are working on something like a bioweapon. Something that fights the wolf inside us. I wasn't able to find out much, except that it interferes with our biological processes in some way. It could have delayed your turning, which worries me. What would it do in someone who was already a werewolf? Do you remember taking anything unusual?"

Lydia shook her head, until a sudden flash of memory made her stop.

"At the formal. I put my glass down for a second, and thought it looked fuller when I picked it up. Great, roofied like a freshman at a frat party."

Derek nodded. "Maybe over time it would have made you immune, but you got bit so quickly…it must be pretty powerful to keep you in a coma like that."

"Then how did I wake up? Did the drug wear off?" she asked.

"I don't know. Makes me glad I ordered some protective gear." Derek led them to a crate he had picked up that morning from an older werewolf who had fought in two wars. It contained numerous outfits made of a strange material…incredibly tough and thick, but still flexible.

"These won't stop bullets, but if they shoot darts full of that compound at us, this will likely stop them from piercing our skin. Hands, neck and head will be your only vulnerable spots. I ordered larger sizes to accommodate the shift. Everyone find one that fits in your Beta state."

When Lydia reached for one, Derek stopped her hand.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"Listen, Fonzie. Or should I say Fozzie? Your hand either comes off my wrist, or it comes off yours. Your choice. You aren't _my_ Alpha, and I have a score to settle with those Argents too."

Derek looked at her, and slowly smirked.

"I was going to tell you, the _girls_ crate is over there. Unless you like to dress in boys clothes." He removed his hand.

"Depends on my mood." She and Allison went over to inspect the other crate.

All Stiles could think of was that Lydia looked hot in military gear. Allison offered her a choice of weapons, but when Lydia turned yellowed eyes on her, Allison quickly found something else to talk about. Scott received a hug from her, and Jackson a cool stare. Her sharp eyes noticed how many times his own flicked over to watch Derek, and how many times Derek returned the glance.

"Well, at least I know what I said to you in the hospital wasn't an empty threat." She said in an aside to Stiles.

"Hmmmm?" he said, struggling into his oversize gear. The girl's at least had buttons.

"Nevermind." She leaned over, and with one vicious yank pulled his head through the opening it was struggling to emerge from, and pushed him against a nearby tree.

"You and I will finish this mission, and survive the night. Is that understood?" she growled. Her black polished claws slid over the protective jacket with the sound of a zipper opening.

Being a werewolf certainly lent an aggressive edge to her bossiness it seemed.

"Yes, ma'am." Said Stiles. Lydia smiled beatifically.

"Good boy." Then she leaned in, placed her lips on his, and gave him the best reason for living of all.

Even Derek turned away, though some of the boys cheered. Five minutes later, the cheering ended. Ten minutes after that, the kiss ended. Matching yellow eyes stared into each other, and it was even odds whether the passion of the humans or the wolves inside them was greater.

"Get a room." Said Danny, cheerfully.

It was an hour to moonrise when they piled into a large black van that Derek acquired that morning on his shopping trip. The sun was already halfway below the horizon, and the tenseness of the rising moon and the impending battle kept them all shifted fully for the whole trip. Not wanting to be sitting in a crowd of agitated werewolves, Allison sat up front while Scott drove, crossbow and quiver full of high-tech arrows in hand. Derek and Jackson sat next to each other, each looking like they wanted to comfort the other, touch the other…anything…but still a small space separated them. That would have to wait until tomorrow, if there was a tomorrow.

They arrived just as the edge of the moon was beginning to peek up, parking a half-mile away on a little dirt road of the main highway. They would head in on foot from there. The plan was to encircle the plant starting from a few hundred yards outside of the fence, and then close in, using their hyper alert senses to detect the presence of patrolling guards, who would be taken out one by one. When the area beyond the fence was clear, they would do the same to the inner perimeter. With luck and great speed, they should be able to reach the building with none being the wiser. Allison set off to find a perch from which to provide cover fire for when they stormed the building.

Stiles left Lydia reluctantly as he traveled swiftly to his assigned position. No one was present in the dark forest aside from the group. He moved in towards the fence, when an almost inaudible ringing sound suddenly ramped up its frequency a tiny bit. Startled, he stepped back. The sound returned to its previous level. A series of distant explosions told him what he had figured out only a second before. Proximity mines. So much for surprise. He fled towards the noise, and heard other wolves doing likewise. The mines were in a 30 foot radius of the fence, and the loping wolves stayed out of the danger area as they raced to their brother. It was Jackson. He was fully human and unconscious. A tight cloud of odorless gas hung in the area. Great, an airborne delivery system delivered by mine. Three of the young wolves had to hold Derek back from rushing into the cloud to get Jackson, a frantic look on his face. His eyes burned, and his body began to twist into the Alpha shape, the boys struggling to hold on to him. A huge searchlight came on, followed by a strident alarm that could quite possibly be heard back at Beacon Hills.

Stiles got his attention. "We have to leave him, Derek. The surprise element is blown, and it is broad freaking daylight here. I can already smell people coming." Stiles hissed

A gunshot like noise, and the light was extinguished as the bulb exploded. _Thank you Allison!_ Stiles thought, before other spotlights spaced around the fence began burn. Derek relented, and motioned them to flee to the woods beyond the reach of the light. Leaping up into the thick canopy, they watched as five human figures emerged from the woods. The group heard the telltale click of automatic weapons. Stiles wondered if they had loaded their guns with silver bullets.

"Damn, worked just like Doc Freeman said it would. Look at him, nothing but a cub."

Through the wolf's night vision, Stiles saw one of the men kick Jackson's body savagely, likely cracking ribs. Stiles did not know how Derek managed to control himself.

"Told you I'd remember you, Jackson Whitmore. There's the red-headed guinea pig they tested the serum on, and planted that transmitter Forester cooked up when she was in the hospital. Nice of them to share their plans with her so we could prepare. Seems a shame to let such a pretty face go all to waste. Come on; let's get them to the lab."

Stiles was frantic. They had Lydia too?

"When do they wake up?" asked another.

"Without the anti-dote, they don't wake up. Not until they get sold to those mercenary outfits so they could start their super soldier programs. Then they get to spend the rest of their lives infecting guerilla fighters who stick their arms into their cages."

"I don't like it, Mark. Goes against everything the family stood for."

"Tough shit. When I got thrown out of the family, they cut me off from my money. It was the the goddamned bomb, and that kid we stabbed. Guess they never heard of casualties of war. That's why I switched to Plan B. The family keeps me from getting my payback? Screw the wolves; it's the family that's going down. I am gonna flood the world with these things. The Argent name will be disgraced forever."

"And what happens to the rest of the world?" asked another.

"That's the beauty of it. We sell them the wolfs bane serum. One shot knocks out a werewolf indefinitely, and makes humans immune to the bite after a week. Once the world is full of wolves, how much do you think the governments will pay for that? I see about a billion dollars for the wolf soldiers, and then in a few years about five to ten billion for the serum to take them out. Not to mention the weapons, the mines…we will be sitting pretty on our island fortress while the whole world goes to hell. Then, maybe I'll even sell the antidote to the wolves if they can raise enough money. Some of them are richer than Midas. That should keep the bloodshed going for a few decades at least."

"Where are the rest of them?" asked the most timid sounding of the bunch. His gun hand was shaking slightly.

"Dollars to donuts they fled with their…ha ha…tails between their legs!" laughed Mark. "Let's get these two packed away for shipment. We need Hale, the Alpha. If he is still around, he'll come for them. Gunnerson! Find out what hit that light bulb; probably a bird flew into it or something, then go back and stand guard over Freeman and Forester so they don't wet themselves at being alone." The bodies were carried off by the group while Gunnerson headed over to the damaged spotlight.

Stiles, Scott, Derek and the boys came down from the trees and looked bleakly at each other. So far, everything had been a disaster. Two wolves down, and weapons that they couldn't protect themselves from.

"We failed." Derek looked tired and miserable. "You boys…find Allison and get back to the van. Get your parents, the police, anyone. I'm going in after them."

"No. We are going in to rescue our friends, Derek." said Stiles resolutely.

Derek's tired eyes flashed bright crimson. "I'm your Alpha, Stiles…"

"Um, no, I never agreed to that. Remember I was still in that coma when the other boys made their pledge, Scott told me all about it."

Derek stared at him, as if considering using force to make him comply.

Stiles set his feet. "You know how strong I am, Derek. You can probably take me, but it won't be easy. You can't just slam my head into lockers and steering wheels anymore."

"I could order the boys to do it; you'd go down fast enough."

"Really? We're going to fight each other, while those guys are busy with Lydia and Jackson? We signed on for the long haul, and we meant it. Let's go!"

"Yeah, coach. We don't run when Pack members fall." Said Scott.

Derek looked at the ten pairs of glowing yellow eyes around him. Part of him wanted to argue, and he opened his mouth to do so, when he suddenly caught sight of the full moon, now fully risen, lighting up the sky with its silver ghost-light.

Derek's eyes burned a brighter crimson than ever before. The boys followed his gaze, and their collective breath was taken away. Derek's next words were in a voice that struggled with human speech even as it devolved into a bestial growl.

"Screw the stealth shit. Tonight, we hunt as wolves, and these humans are our prey. No survivors."

Tearing the protective gear from his body, Derek gave himself over to the full fury of the Alpha, but an Alpha that his pack had never seen before. He was larger, more monstrous and more fully wolf-like on this night of all nights.

The Pack shifted too as they also discarded the gear. Their bodies were larger than mere Beta state could account for, and the gear no longer fit. The fur that covered them was thick and dark, and with painful crackling sounds their jaws lengthened. Scythe like claws danced on the ends of fingers that yearned to rip and tear the flesh of their enemies, drool ran in rivulets from mouths that hungered for human flesh.

The Alpha cracked his great jaws wide and howled his fury for all the world to hear, joined only a second later by the Pack.

The Alpha turned and leapt to the tallest tree at the perimeter of the mine field. Raking huge chunks out of the wood with his claws, he reached the topmost branch, then leapt to another about fifteen feet away. The tree swayed as it caught his weight. Another leap carried him over the fence where he landed on the hard pavement of the inner perimeter of the plant. The ten Betas landed one after the other next to him, having followed his lead. They stood in the harsh light, and faced Gunnerson, the twitchy one, who screamed in terror and dropped his gun at the sight of the legion of infuriated werewolves that had seemingly fallen from the sky.

In the next second, Allison shot out this second spotlight, to give the screaming man the courtesy of being able to meet his death under the blessing of darkness.

The Alpha shouted mental commands into the mind of each Beta, and in pairs they took off to complete their separate missions. Tim and Frank quickly scoured the inner perimeter, taking down another of Mark Argent's henchman. The man (whose name, they would never learn, was Dobbs) held onto his gun, but unwisely left the safety on in his panic. The two boys each grabbed one of his arms in their jaws and pulled them off his torso nearly simultaneously. Then Tim tackled him to the ground, and in a second had cracked open his rib cage to pull out the dripping prizes and devour them. Frank clamped his jaws on the man's face and ripped it off to be swallowed in one bite. They were never sure afterward in the frenzy of tearing claws that followed, which one of them actually ripped his throat out and put an end to his irritating screams.

Peter and Thomas located the small concrete building that housed the generator that powered the plant. In a fury, they tore and pounded at the steel door until they were able to pull it warped and screaming from its hinges. Inside they found an unexpected prize; yet another of Argent's squad, DeStefano, who having heard the noise unwisely selected this place as the safest possible hiding spot. He called out to God to save him, but on this night God had fangs.

Patrick, Brian and LeRoy tracked down the last member who had made it to the weapons store. Entering, he armed himself with an explosive gas launcher filled with the deadly serum.

Braver than his comrades (his name tag actually read Hero) he stood his ground as the three rampaging Betas moved in for the kill. Before he could pull the trigger, there was a whistling sound and a flash of pain and the gun seemed to vanish from his hands. In the last second of his life, he noticed it about ten feet away, a crossbow bolt impaling a severed finger still curled around the trigger. "Oh, shit. My hand!" he muttered, before they fell upon him. When the edible bits of him were gone and only bones remained (Paul snatched up the finger), the Betas set about their secondary mission of destroying the storehouse. A bandolier belt of conventional grenades was utilized for this purpose by having their collective pins yanked out with an inhuman claw. The explosion was hotter than the gateway to hell (due to the exotic and highly flammable weapons still inside) but by the time that happened the three were long gone.

The Alpha ripped the doors of the main plant building apart as if they were tin foil. He was followed in by Scott, Danny and Stiles. They tracked Argents scent down corridor after corridor, before finally being forced to split up; the scent was everywhere, and there were three corridors to explore plus a stairway leading upward.

Danny took the left corridor, slamming through the door at the end like a freight train. He stopped as he noticed a young man handcuffed and sitting in a locked cage. The room contained rows of computer banks and tables filled with beakers, alembics and petrie dishes. Danny shifted back far enough (God, it was hard tonight) to question him in something close to human speech.

"What are you doing here?" he growled.

Danny put one claw fingered hand around the lock on the cage and twisted. It broke off easily and he swung the cage door open wide. Danny yanked the boy out and to his feet in one swift movement. The handcuffs were pulled apart next. The boy looked up at the shifted teen and whimpered.

"Please, don't hurt me. They've had me for months. They made me do things for them. The night of the Formal, they made me drug this girl's drink. They told me I had to, or they would kill my family. Had pictures of my little brother and sisters. When I went back and told them it was done, they took me here. They did…they did experiments on me. Injected me with all of this stuff. Made me sick. I just want to go home…" The boy sank to the floor, crying. There were dark shadows under his eyes, and he looked painfully thin and malnourished.

Danny looked down impassively at him, then said: "Wait here. Don't leave this room until I come for you. I can't account for my brother's …appetite this evening… or mine for that matter." He left quickly.

Scott's trek down the center corridor led to a makeshift communications room, complete with giant television screens, radios, code encrypters and breakers. A man in a military uniform from what looked to be a South American country was even now attempting to make contact.

"Argent! Are you there? What news of these super soldiers you offered to send me? When can I expect delivery?" Scott turned toward the screen and growled, his eyes glowed a fierce yellow.

"Madre de Dios! Lobombre!" he shouted, before closing off the connection.

"Now that was naughty, young man." Scott whirled around, amazed he had not smelled this man upon entering. He sniffed, puzzled. The man was invisible, olfactorily speaking.

"My name's Freeman. You're probably wondering why you can't smell me. Another of my little inventions: it deadens the olfactory bulb as long as you inhale it." He strapped on a pair of dark goggles, and brought out a large service revolver with a silencer attached.

"Now, let's see if we can't do something about your vision as well." He flipped a switch, and the room was suddenly flooded with light to rival the brightest noonday desert sun. Scott shrieked and clutched at his eyes, flailing around and unintentionally dodging a lethal bullet sent his way a second later.

Freeman cursed and took aim, not wanting to waste the shot. Scott's ears, now his only working sense in helping him find the mad scientist, heard the minute click of the trigger and dodged again, feeling the heat of the slug as it passed by. He flailed, still growling and snarling as Freeman smirked and danced lightly about the room, supremely confident that Scott could never reach him. Freeman stepped up very close with the intention to fire the gun at point blank range.

He aimed, and then one of Scott's wildly flailing monster hands suddenly (and with exacting aim) tore into Freeman's ribcage to pull the man's heart still beating from his chest.

"You forgot to silence this. Don't worry; I'll do it for you." It was the werewolf equivalent of a Big Mac. Scott left the room smacking his lips and still rubbing at his blinded eyes.

Stiles ended up down the right hand corridor, which led into a room lined with hospital beds. Most of the beds were empty, two contained Jackson and Lydia. Stiles snarled and started forward only to hear a low whistling sound, at which he looked down to see a shiny dart protruding from his left arm.

"Doh!" muttered the young werewolf.

He felt the strength draining out of him, his legs giving out followed by numbness in his arms. He hung onto his bare thread of consciousness with every ounce of his will.

"Another Beta. Well, that's good for me. The serum doesn't work on Alphas, yet. I never had the chance to study one." A man with a lab coat that read 'Forester' tossed away a dart gun and produced the mother of all magnums.

Stiles reached one hand towards Lydia, struggling to get to her, to see her. Maybe for the last time.

"Oh, sweet on her are we? Yes, she is beautiful. I told Argent to sell her to people in the human trafficking trade with more…exotic tastes." He ran the gun slowly up Lydia's body, stopping to nudge the barrel into the delicate valley of her cleavage.

Fury filled Stiles as he watched the man lecherously gloat over Lydia's body. His fanged jaws clamped together, every muscle in his body clenched. He caught a brief glimpse of the moon through a high window, and had a despairing nonsensical impulse. _'Please. Help me save her._' he asked the ghost white orb. He gave out one enormous cheated howl as he watched the man's free hand move to undo a button. Even as he felt himself sliding into oblivion, the rage in Stiles made his eyes glow a brighter and brighter yellow…before suddenly flaring into crimson. With a wrenching that seemed to reach into his very soul, his body stretched and swelled until it took on the proportions of an Alpha werewolf. New strength flooded into his limbs, washing away the numbness like a waterfall.

Stiles stood to his new seven feet of height, over the now cowering doctor. The doc kept his composure enough to maintain the gun in its exact position rather than try to aim it at the werewolf.

"I will kill her if you so much as move. I know you are lightning fast…but I bet I'm faster. Now back away, and no one gets hurt. Although Stiles itched to rip the man to pieces (and then eat the pieces) he hesitated, then stepped back.

"Good. That's far enough. Goodnight." The gun suddenly whipped up to aim directly at Stiles' chest.

A hand with beautifully manicured and deadly claws yanked his hand away even as he fired.

"Do it and die, creep. Or…just die anyway." Lydia's fang filled jaws clamped on Foresters neck, and ripped it open in a wide spray of blood.

She spit out the chunk of flesh, looking grossed out. "That will probably go right to my thighs." She muttered.

She hopped delicately off the table and beheld without fear the enormous creature before her.

So elated was Stiles to see her all right that he shifted back to his completely human form and threw his arms around her.

"How did you fight off that smoke?" he asked.

"I never inhaled it. I saw Jackson pass out and thought it could get me inside with no trouble, where I could cause some mischief. I had some experience pretending sleep this morning…and that had worked out so well."

Stiles blushed at her words.

"So, muffin, you're an Alpha now. I like a man with ambition. Change back, and do let's see what is happening with the others."

And once again Lydia walked down the hallway with the Alpha following about six steps behind in her wake.

The gang met at about the same time near the stair leading upward. The others took in Stiles' new form without comment (except for Danny, who muttered 'I'm supposed to be the bigger brother!'). When they heard the Alpha's howl, they raced up the stairs to find their leader. Answering howls from the Pack still outside the building got closer by the second.

The moment Derek broke through the locked doors to the room at the top of the stairs, he froze upon seeing Mark Argent, casually lying on a table under an array of needles held by robotic arms and filled with variously colored chemicals.

"Hey there Wolfie. Want to play? Just give me a sec. Thanks for forcing me to do something I really didn't have the guts to do otherwise." He pressed a button, and the needles all jammed simultaneously into his skin. He screamed in pain, then began to laugh.

"Hey, what do you know? The docs were able to mix up some of the steroids with the wolfs bane serum and the blood of that freak down there! Oooohhh what's gonna happen…" Another button press and the needles released, allowing him to hop off the table. He stripped off his shirt, and the ridiculously defined muscles began to bulge even more. Argent grew taller, wider, thicker, but abstained from developing any wolfish features. When Derek was a child, he had a He-Man action figure. He thought it was ridiculous to have or even want that many muscles. Argent looked like a double size version of He-Man or…a condom packed with walnuts. One of the two.

"Let's go, puppy dog!" he growled.

The Goliath came for him.

It was a battle of colossi, the monstrously large man versus the monstrously large wolf. The wolf lunged at the thick corded neck and clamped down, but found to his surprise that he could not work his teeth through the tough flesh. He clamped harder, and was at last rewarded with a thin trickle of blood…blood that tasted foul and tainted.

A powerhouse blow caught the Alpha in the midriff, and he staggered back, broken ribs mending in roughly ten seconds due to the moon and extremity of his change.

A claw swipe that should have disemboweled the Goliath instead drew thin blood, but it still elicited a scream of rage. The two traded more blows, until it became obvious that the Goliath was winning. Whatever witch's brew the doctors had cooked up here rendered him nearly immune to damage. The Alpha threw back its head in an eerie howl.

The Goliath slammed its fists together.

"The Children of the Night! What music they make! My ass…" The Goliath lifted the Alpha over his head.

At that minute, the entire Pack burst into the room and the younger wolves threw themselves at the creature. Stiles waded in as well, and the Goliath shrieked as he dropped his prey and was subjected to eleven sets of jaws and twenty two sets of claws all working to pull him to pieces. It was difficult work. The skin refused to tear except under great duress, but tear it did when the Pack worked together. Both Alphas clamped on opposite sides of the thick neck, now whittled mostly down to the vertebrae by the insistent Betas. With tremendous force from their jaws twisting in opposite directions, there was finally a tremendous crack, and the Goliath was still.

All of them shifted back, the boys all shirtless from the excessive change, Lydia still dressed in her protective gear.

As she looked at the lot of them, half-naked and sweaty, she remarked: "This reminds me of a dream I had once-"

Derek hugged each boy and congratulated each on a job well done.

"As I told you once before, when wolves fight together, you can take down any foe, no matter-"

"We know." They muttered.

They filed down the stairs slowly. At the bottom, Danny went off to recover the boy he found, while Derek went to recover Jackson. After they put the whole building to the torch to erase all evidence of the scientific work performed here, they met up with Allison and walked back to the van. It had been a long night, though the moon now at its zenith told them there was definitely a ways to go.

The boy in the lab turned out to be a Beta (unable to shift for almost a week due to the drugs in his system) named Matthew. He had been turned by Peter Hale before Scott only to disappear (much to Peter's frustration) when he was kidnapped by the Argents radical faction.

Danny went with him to reunite him with his parents and family, and it was a joyful reunion all around. Before Danny left, Matthew asked if they could see each other again. Danny agreed, scrawled his number on a sticky note and returned to the Pack.

Stiles became such an authority on 'The Notebook' that Lydia lost all taste for the movie altogether. They argued rarely, as it was fearsome to watch…him being an Alpha, and Lydia being…Lydia. After an extensive examination, a doctor was able to find and remove the transmitter implanted by the Argents. She would never tell Stiles where it was.

Scott and Allison once more became engrossed in each other to the exclusion of all else, though when he was really needed, he always came through for them. Eventually.

The Lacrosse team (now TRULY kick-ass) never lost a game the whole time they were in High School. Each boy got athletic scholarships, which they only felt partially guilty about considering what they had saved the world from.

As for Jackson, he had taken over Lydia's bed in the hospital, in a full and irreversible coma. Derek and the Pack had scoured the building for the antidote described by Mark Argent to no avail before finally destroying it. Without it, he would never wake up. Derek sent a full report of their discoveries to Chris Argent so that he would know how closely their wayward son had come to destroying everything they held dear.

Jackson's parents appreciated Derek's loyalty to their son, and let him know (once he had informed them of the full extent of their relationship) that should Jackson awake, the couple would have their blessing.

A package arrived at the hospital for him. It was emblazoned with the Argent family crest. Inside was a single silver syringe filled with blue fluid. Derek's trembling hand lifted it out of the box. He didn't dare to hope. A note from Argent read: "This was found at one of the labs the Feds raided. My contacts got it out for me. The rest has been destroyed, so use it well. The notes stated it should take about six hours to work. Good Luck, and…"

Derek had to make his hands steady with all his concentration before he could manage to get the syringe in Jackson's IV. Then he fled the hospital, raided the local supermarket for food, cleaned up the house which had been neglected in his absence, and raced back by the time the clock had registered five hours passing.

An empty bed awaited him, next to a broken window. Derek sank to the floor, unable to comprehend how Fate contrived for him to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. No clue about his abduction could be found.

With nothing to remain there for, Derek returned for the final time to his home and pondered disabling the sprinkler system and setting the house ablaze (with or without him still inside it). He stepped into the front door, and noted that the house was completely dark. There were lights on when he left. He looked up in shock at the voice that came from the top of the stairs.

"Once again, I think it's my turn to get what I want." said a revived Jackson. Then he leapt down the full flight of stairs, landed heavily in front of Derek and stood slowly wearing only a pair of loose boxers. The sheer hunger on Jackson's face made a startled Derek back into the closed front door. Jackson leaned in close, smiled as his eyes took on a familiar yellow glow, and lunged forward before suddenly stopping.

"Are you really sure you want to ruin that shirt and jacket?" he asked.

"You serious?" asked Derek.

"You will be going through a lot of clothes, Derek." Jackson slid a clawed hand down Derek's t- shirt.

Derek smiled, getting into the game. He hung his jacket on a chair and pulled the shirt over his head.

"Aren't those designer jeans? And the shoes are $500 at least." Derek dutifully kicked off the shoes and nimbly stripped off the jeans.

He saw Jackson about to speak again and removed the socks. Only a pair of black Calvin Kleins protected his dignity.

"Go ahead, Derek, nothing I haven't seen before."

"You haven't seen _this_ before." muttered Derek.

"You're deviating from the script." Jackson teased.

"Let's go both at the same time." offered Derek.

"Deal."

They did so, and spent several minutes in mute contemplation of each other's perfection. Then Derek took a suddenly trembling Jackson by the hand, and led him up the stairs to the master bedroom. As they lay on the bed and entwined themselves into each other, they leaned in as one for a kiss that they sincerely hoped would never have to end.


End file.
